Part Four
"I really can't trust you guys to do anything, can I?"
Sunek's comment went unanswered, as he stood next to the wall of Toran's great hall, alongside Jirel, Denella and Natasha.
The Vulcan had landed back on Brexis II mere minutes ago, expecting to meet back up with the others, find out what happened with Klath and his efforts to reclaim his honour, and then leave the planet entirely. Ideally after a bloodwine-heavy party.
Instead, as soon as he had innocently stepped down the Bounty's ramp, he had found himself surrounded by armed guards and summarily marched straight into Toran's main residence to join the three individuals who were now being referred to as his co-conspirators. Which was very much not how he had wanted to spend his evening.
"Seriously," he continued to gripe at his colleagues, "How hard is it to not get arrested? That was basically all you had to do."
The others continued to ignore his complaints. Because their focus was on Toran himself, who strode into the great hall through one of the side entrances, still clad in full battle armour and wearing a face like thunder.
"So," he spat at them, "That was what all of this was. A plot against me."
"Ok, no," Jirel began, "That's not-"
"Be quiet!" Toran growled at the Trill, "The evidence is clear for all to see. You have come here, even as several members of the High Council are mere hours away from arriving themselves, and you have deliberately unleashed a plague upon my house!"
The enormous Klingon marched straight up to the fearful foursome with his fists clenched tightly by his side, his rage evident in his glare.
"That is the truth, isn't it? This is all a grand conspiracy to discredit me."
A pause. Jirel awkwardly licked his lips.
"Um, do I answer that? Cos you just told me to be quiet-Oof!"
The Trill was silenced this time by Toran's fist slamming into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him completely and leaving him entirely clear as to how much disarming banter the Klingon was willing to tolerate right now.
Toran whirled away, his armour clinking in step with his feet as he paced back down the short line of Bounty crew members.
"So, my allies on the Council arrive soon, discover that I am infested with these…things throughout my residence, and my reputation is ruined. And perhaps it will work as you intended. Perhaps there is no time to resolve this crisis."
He stopped next to Sunek and suddenly wrenched his bat'leth from behind his back, causing the Vulcan to jump back in genuine fright.
"But perhaps," Toran continued darkly, " I may have my revenge on you before then…"
He slowly whirled the weapon around, causing Sunek's fearful expression to increase in intensity.
"Woah," the Vulcan babbled, "C-Careful with that thing. You'll have someone's eye out-!"
"Toran!"
The sudden bellowed cry made the imposing Klingon Councillor pause and lower his weapon, as everyone in the room turned to see Klath bursting through another set of doors. His crewmates looked at him with varying shades of relief, but Klath's own focus was entirely on his fellow Klingon.
"Leave," Toran growled back dismissively, "There is nothing here for a dishonoured taHqeq."
Klath felt the sting of the latest insult fired in his direction, but he didn't allow it to affect him, nor did he acknowledge the pair of guards that approached his position.
"I will not leave," he retorted, "I have just been informed you have taken my crew. Why?"
Toran's face darkened at this.
"You insult me further by claiming to know nothing of their actions? What they have brought to my house? A plague worthy of calling for General K'Vusk himself!"
Klath stopped on the spot, in shock. His mind began to race as several disparate pieces of a jigsaw he wasn't even aware existed started to resolve in his head.
"Here? On Brexis II?"
"Yes. And do not try to deny your part in it, son of Morad. You likely orchestrated this whole thing, or was your name not there on the delivery papers?"
Another few pieces were added to the pile in Klath's head, even as Toran gestured to the two guards who had intercepted him.
"Take him!"
Before Klath could think any further, his arms were grabbed by the guards.
On the other side of the room, a spark went off in Denella's head as she dredged up a memory of a detail of Klingon culture that she and Klath had once talked about during their time on the Bounty. She glanced over at Jirel and muttered out of the side of her mouth.
"Hey, I think we've got one chance of getting out of all of this. So just…follow my lead."
Jirel managed a slight nod of affirmation back at his engineer, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to play along with. It didn't take long for him to realise.
"Hey! Toran, son of Kradon!" Denella suddenly called out at the hulking Klingon warrior.
Toran, still with his bat'leth in his hands, slowly turned around to the Orion woman. He looked almost a little amused at the sudden display of forcefulness.
"Oh good," Jirel muttered unhappily, "One of those plans."
Denella ignored him, and summoned up all of the courage she could in order to defiantly maintain eye contact with the angry face of Toran.
"Klath's an idiot," she continued, "He had nothing to do with it. This was all us. And we got paid pretty handsomely for bringing those tribbles here, as well!"
Despite the gravity of their situation, she couldn't help but find a trace of amusement at the way the proud and mighty Klingon warrior in full battle dress seemed to instinctively flinch slightly as soon as she said the word 'tribble'.
"Is that so?" Toran grunted back at her.
"Oh yeah," she persisted, silently praying that her sometimes dubious recollection of Klingon language and traditions wasn't mistaken on this occasion, "You think a stupid Klingon could pull off something like this? We brought a plague right to the doorstep of a High Council member. That takes brains, not Klingons."
She stole a subtle but deliberate glance at Jirel, letting him know in no uncertain terms that it was time to follow her lead.
The Trill looked back at Toran's imposing form, not entirely wanting to follow the sort of lead that seemed to involve picking a fight with him. But, not for the first time in his life, he decided to put his life entirely in the hands of his engineer's eye for a plan.
"Um, yeah," he managed, as confidently as he could under the circumstances, "That's right. The four of us did all this. Klath was just a, y'know, useful idiot."
Toran glared at him, then shifted his attention back to Denella, his eyes narrowing slightly. To Jirel's side, Natasha leaned over.
"What the hell are you-?"
"Don't worry about it. Me and Denella are doing the talking."
"Yes! That's the bit I'm worrying about!"
Before Toran could act, and just as Denella was starting to fear she'd very much missed the target on this one, Klath called out again.
"Toran!" he bellowed, "You hear their confession. They are the ones that have betrayed you, just as they have betrayed me. And so, I claim the right of QaS DevwI'."
Toran spun back around, as Denella let out a relieved sigh at that piece of Klingonese.
"You are dishonoured!" he retorted.
"I still have the right."
Klath stood his ground, and Toran paused for a moment, considering what he had heard. Eventually, and reluctantly, he nodded and gestured Klath forward towards the others.
"Um," Jirel muttered to Denella, as their crewmate approached them, "What's the right of…kassy devil?"
"I'll explain later. But…it is gonna hurt a bit."
Jirel's eyes widened as Klath reached them.
"You didn't say anything about-!"
"Silence!" Klath spat at them, his words laced with entirely believable anger.
He stared into Denella's eyes with a fierce, fictional rage. She could tell that, behind the act that he was carefully putting on, his glare was also sending her a different message. A message that said: I apologise for this.
She braced herself.
Klath moved with such speed that she didn't even see the punch coming. But it connected with more than enough force to send her flying backwards onto the stone ground behind her with a painful thump.
Jirel watched on in shock, before Klath turned to him as well.
"Oh. Right. Great. So it's also one of those plans-!"
With a second fierce swing of his fist, Klath sent Jirel flying back to join Denella. Natasha's eyes boggled as Klath stepped over to her, as the Klingon prepared to continue his one man melee.
"Hey!" Sunek called out from her side, "This side of the line didn't say anything, ok? S-So how about you leave our faces alone? You know that's my best feature!"
"Enough!" Toran called out from behind them, sparing Klath the need to continue with his demonstration, much to Natasha and Sunek's relief.
Inside, Klath was equally thankful, albeit a little unhappy that he hadn't got the chance to legitimately punch his Vulcan colleague in the face. He kept up his theatrically angry scowl as he turned back to Toran.
"You may be without honour, son of Morad, but I am not. I can see your anger at your traitorous crew, and I grant you the right of QaS DevwI'. In the meantime, I will have my men secure them in the detention chamber."
Klath nodded back, as Toran signalled to his guards to take the rest of the Bounty's crew. He didn't bother to look back at them or betray any concern, not wanting to break the front he was putting on as part of Denella's plan.
Instead, he strode out of the great hall with renewed purpose. The plan had bought him some time to find who was really responsible for bringing the tribbles to Brexis II.
In truth, he already had an idea who was responsible.
But now, he needed proof.
'*'*'
'*'*'
"See, this should be, like, a life rule for us."
Sunek paced up and down inside the small secure room they had been unceremoniously thrown into by Toran's guards. It was bereft of furnishings, and was merely a rectangular area in the basement separated from the rest of the residence by a substantial forcefield.
"Rule number one," the Vulcan continued, "Don't do business with anyone whose houses have their own detention chambers. No normal, regular person you should be doing business with lives in a house with its own detention chamber!"
As he paced back and forth, Natasha examined Denella, who seemed more than a little groggy from her run-in with Klath's fist.
"You've got a concussion," she reported, checking her dilated pupils as best she could now her tricorder had been confiscated by the guards, "We're gonna need to treat that asap."
"Yep," Denella winced, "We should get right on that after we're done being executed."
Natasha gave her a mildly withering look, as Jirel raised his hand from where he was slumped against the cold wall next to them.
"Um, hi? I'm also in tremendous pain?"
Natasha got Denella as comfortable as she could in the solid stone confines of their temporary accommodation, before moving on to check the Trill.
"Plus," Sunek continued to gripe, "I already went through a very traumatic experience today. Do you have any idea the kind of noise one thousand, four hundred and ninety two tribbles make when they're blown out into space? That's gonna stay with me for a while."
Natasha instantly whirled around, shooting an angry look at the Vulcan.
"You said you were going to use anesthizine gas on them!"
Sunek paused in the midst of his pacing and raised an amused eyebrow.
"The cutest part about that is that you actually believed that was a thing I'd be able to do on our ship."
The doctor's unhappy look darkened even further, just as Jirel tried to steer the conversation onto more pressing matters.
"So, Denella, wanna explain why I just got punched in the face? Not that it doesn't happen a lot, but I usually like to know the reason."
"It was all I could think to do," the Orion replied, "The right of QaS DevwI' is a Klingon Defence Force tradition I remember reading about. Aboard a Klingon ship, any section leader has the right to punish those under their direct command themselves, rather than deferring to a superior. Given what Toran was about to do to us, I was hoping he'd go for that instead."
"Even though we're not Klingons? And Klath isn't our 'section leader'?"
Denella offered a weak shrug back.
"Toran's been treating him like he's in charge of us since we landed. And I've found that Klingons tend to be willing to overlook a lot if it means they can follow one of their traditions. They can be relentlessly efficient when they want to be, but you're never far away from some sort of right or ceremony to use as a caveat if you want to stall them."
"Such a dumb empire," Sunek muttered to himself as he resumed his pacing.
"Huh," Jirel offered, ignoring the Vulcan, "And this right of kissy whatever is good for us because…?"
"Because if it wasn't for that, Toran would have killed us right there. Whereas now, we've been detained for an hour."
"And then?"
"And then…Klath has to kill us."
Denella looked around the detention chamber to see the other three glaring at her. None of them seemed enthused with the details of her plan.
"Ok," she sighed, "The point is: We're still alive. And Klath's still out there, not in here."
"Hang on," Sunek jumped in, "So you're saying that we're locked in here, about to be executed for crimes against the Klingon Empire. And the only thing that can save us is Klath coming up with a clever plan?"
Denella nodded back.
"Welp," the Vulcan sighed, "It was nice knowing all of you."
'*'*'
'*'*'
"Hurry up!"
Karn walked quickly across the landing pad, as K'Veth hurried to keep pace next to him.
The siblings had left Toran's residence, and were now hurrying back to where the Bounty was parked. The guards had seen no reason to stop them from returning to their ship. After all, the sooner the stench of their dishonour left Brexis II, the better.
"Karn," K'Veth hissed as they walked, "We cannot leave them behind-"
"That is exactly what we should do. You heard what the guards told Klath about his colleagues. Our mission here is complete. Now, we must leave and return to Mortath."
"And what of Klath?"
"What of him?" her older brother snorted back dismissively as they approached the rear ramp of the Ju'Day-type ship, "With any luck, Toran will see fit to deal with him as well and tie up another loose end for us."
As he started up the ramp, she reached out and grabbed his arm, causing him to stop and jerk his head back towards her with an angered glare.
"Leaving them here was not part of the plan," she implored, ignoring his glare, "It is not the honourable thing to do-"
"Honour?" Karn spat, as he wrenched his arm out of her grasp, "Has nothing that has happened here shown you how hollow that concept is? We have done nothing wrong, nor has our father, and yet still the Empire wishes to leave us to rot. For something we had no control over."
"But-"
"There is nothing more for us to do here, but escape. And return to Mentok colony."
With that, he stormed back up the Bounty's ramp with renewed pace, not giving her the chance to respond.
K'Veth looked back at Toran's residence, considering the people that were still in there. Then she reluctantly followed her brother up the ramp. She didn't necessarily want to do that. She didn't want to leave Klath and the others behind. But she also knew that if she wasn't on the Bounty when it left Brexis II, then she would be stranded here, and would likely end up dead. So she followed him. All the way back to the Bounty's deserted cockpit.
As she bounded up the steps and into the ship's nerve centre, her eyes were drawn to the empty tactical station and she felt a fresh pang of guilt inside as she thought about the man they were leaving behind. The man they had allowed to believe that there was still honour here to be reclaimed.
In contrast to her, Karn was having no such issues. He had already slotted himself into the pilot's seat and was starting to go through the motions of powering up the ship.
"With any luck," he grunted, "We'll have clearance all the way back to Mentok colony."
She silently nodded and stepped over to stand next to the pilot's console as he continued preparing the ship for departure.
It was then that they heard a voice behind them.
"Klingons do not believe in luck."
They both turned in unison to see Klath standing in the doorway of the cockpit, blocking the only exit available to them. He held a blunt disruptor in his hand.
"What the hell are you doing with that thing?" Karn snapped.
Klath didn't bother to respond, and kept the disruptor pointed at the scheming siblings. It was true that he usually preferred a bladed weapon to an energy weapon. But he also recognised that there was a time and a place for everything. And this situation required practicality.
It hadn't taken a genius to realise that Karn and K'Veth had something to do with the infestation of Brexis II. And that if he was going to save his crewmates, he was going to need to bring them in.
But it also hadn't taken a genius to realise that he couldn't exactly try to pull a weapon on them while they were still in the middle of Toran's estate, given the number of equally-armed guards posted around the place.
So, he had gone against his natural confrontational instinct, and had opted for a more circumspect approach. And assuming that they would attempt to make their escape while the rest of the Bounty's crew were incarcerated, he had stealthily slipped into the ship's engine room, where he had been lying in wait, poised and ready to strike when his prey arrived.
It hadn't taken much waiting.
"Power down the ship," he grunted at Karn, "We are not going anywhere for now."
K'Veth immediately stepped away from the console, but Karn remained seated. Still, his focus was on the disruptor, and his usual leer seemed slightly more tempered than usual.
Klath glanced at K'Veth and shook his head.
"Earlier, you asked me if there was a chance that we could reclaim our honour. But you knew that there never was. Whatever claims you, or Mortath, made about our mission here were all lies. Lies to get us here in order to deliver the…cargo."
K'Veth reached for a response, but couldn't find one, realising that any words would be a disappointment. Instead, Karn stood from the pilot's seat.
"We came here to reclaim our-"
"No more lies!" Klath spat, stopping his efforts to argue further.
"So, what?" Karn offered instead, gesturing at the disruptor, "You would shoot an unarmed Klingon? Where is the honour in that?"
"There is none," Klath acknowledged, keeping the disruptor poised, "But then…I am already disgraced, am I not? And if there is nothing more to be done for my honour, then I suppose that does not matter."
With this, Karn's sneer disappeared entirely, as he saw the quandary he was in. Having secured the upper hand, Klath waved the pair towards the exit, gesturing for them to come with him.
"Wh-Where are we going?" Karn managed.
Klath maintained a determined glare.
"To reclaim the honour of my shipmates."
'*'*'
'*'*'
Still groggy from the punch she had received from Klath, Denella winced at the bright lights of the great hall, as the motley quartet of supposed conspirators were led back into the room.
Their hour was up.
The guards lined them up in front of the podium at the head of the vast chamber, where Toran was already waiting, sitting on his throne-like chair with an array of bladed Klingon swords and weaponry laid out on a table to one side. Denella's knowledge of many aspects of Klingon culture was still patchy, but she idly wondered if they were going to be given the right to choose the weapon for their own execution.
"Your time is up, crew of the Bounty," Toran announced solemnly from his throne, "And your QaS DevwI' is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps you made a mistake in placing your trust in one without honour."
The four of them glanced around the hall, but there was indeed no sign of Klath.
Toran slowly stood from his throne and extended himself to his full height, managing to look imposing even in the expanse of the three-storey height of the great hall.
"So," he continued, "In his absence, I have the right to defend my honour, and punish those that have committed treason against the Empire."
He looked at the line of faces, then down at the weapons available to him. Denella couldn't be certain, but she was sure that she detected a slight grimace in the Klingon's face as he sized up the blades. Almost as if he wasn't looking forward to the bloodshed. Which was a very curious reaction for a Klingon warrior.
He snapped a look back at them, leaving the weapons where they were.
"Do you have anything more to say before I carry out the sentence?"
One of the Bounty's crew members was suddenly in his element.
"Oh yeah," Sunek nodded, "I've got a hell of a lot to say. You wanna know why we did it? Well, I'll tell you. In long, excruciating detail. See, we're radical animal rights activists from the Badlands. And we have long campaigned against the Klingon Empire's mistreatment of tribbles. Even though some might say that's a really, really dumb thing to get so upset about, right, doc?"
He glanced at Natasha, who tacitly refused to acknowledge the point. He shrugged and continued.
"And you'd better believe that executing us will be a huge mistake. Cos if you do, we'll be martyrs to the cause of the Tribble Liberation Front. And once the rest of the gang gets wind of what happened here, they will start a pressure campaign so intense that you'll regret ever declaring war on those little fuzzballs!"
Despite the gravity of their situation, Denella couldn't help but muster a trace of a smile as the Vulcan continued to ramble on. Only Sunek would think of trying to filibuster his own execution.
Unfortunately for him, it wasn't a tactic that Toran had much time for.
"Enough!" the Klingon bellowed, with enough force to silence Sunek right in the middle of explaining how the Tribble Liberation Front's aggressive leafleting campaign would be stepped up across the whole Beta Quadrant.
The Klingon warrior stepped up to them with a menacing leer.
"You have each committed a grave act against the Empire," he continued, "And in the continued absence of your QaS DevwI', I shall dispense justice."
As he scowled at Denella, she couldn't shake the idea that the High Council member might be doing a spot of filibustering of his own.
"Ok," Sunek tried again, "New idea: You want names? Cos I can give you every last name working in the Tribble Liberation Front right now. I know I just sounded like I was standing with them, but what the hell, you make a persuasive-"
The Vulcan was finally silenced by Toran doling out a solid punch to his stomach. Sunek let out a pained yelp and doubled over in pain.
"Very well," Toran grunted, walking back over to the tranche of weaponry, "Now I shall-"
The huge main doors to the great hall burst open, and a trio of familiar Klingons entered, Karn and K'Veth led in by a disruptor-wielding Klath. It was enough of a sight for two of Toran's honour guards to move over and intercept them.
"Great," Sunek coughed sarcastically as he struggled to get his breath back, "He brought a gun."
Klath grabbed Karn and K'Veth to stop them on the spot as the guards approached, before lowering his disruptor to the ground and setting it down, a clear and obvious gesture of concession to both Toran and the guards.
"What is the meaning of this?" Toran snapped.
"This petaQ has lost his mind," Karn growled back.
Klath ignored the latest slight on his character and kept his focus on Toran.
"These are the ones that are responsible for bringing the plague to Brexis II, Toran. My colleagues are innocent."
"Lies," Karn spat out by way of a defence, "He has no proof!"
Toran regarded the newcomers with a curious air, giving his guards a dismissive gesture to order them to step back for the time being.
"He says you have no proof, son of Morad," he reiterated, "Explain yourself."
Klath stole a glance at K'Veth, who immediately turned away from him. He ignored whatever residual feelings he may still have had towards her, and focused on the more pressing issue.
"I know that my colleagues are not behind it," he explained, "They were here on this mission to support me in my attempts to seek restoration. And they fully supported me in that. Even if they did not…get it."
He looked over at Jirel, who offered a half-smile and a nod of acknowledgement. Klath nodded back, before continuing.
"And it is also clear that this plague could not have been an accident. Our vessel went through a full decontamination sweep before we departed Mentok colony. The entire ship was thoroughly irradiated, following the precise procedures detailed by the Empire. And each of us had to submit to a full body sensor scan before we were allowed to board. Their presence onboard could not have been overlooked. It had to be deliberate."
He gestured to Natasha where she stood in line as he continued.
"Furthermore, as our doctor will confirm, I understand that these…things require sustenance in order to multiply so rapidly. Something that they were unlikely to find in our cargo bay without assistance from outside."
"Energy bars!" Natasha called out, as the pieces clicked together in her head, "We found an energy bar wrapper in with the crates of bloodwine. Sunek asked earlier if they'd brought a packed lunch with them. I guess they kinda did."
Toran stared blankly at the human doctor for a moment, then turned back to Klath, gesturing to Karn and K'Veth.
"This is all very interesting, son of Morad. But why would these exiles come all this way to meet with me and present their cases, while at the same time try to destroy me? Why not just give you and your crew the bloodwine to deliver."
"Because they were not the masterminds of the scheme. They were merely here to ensure that everything went as planned."
"This is all fakery-!" Karn began.
"Silence," Toran boomed, keeping his eyes on Klath, "Then who are you suggesting was responsible for this?"
"I recall something you said when we first arrived. When we all introduced ourselves, you said that you recognised the name Mortath. I find it unlikely that a High Council member would take the trouble to memorise the name of every dishonourable exile in the galaxy. Especially when there are so many of us."
Toran's eyes widened slightly, and he nodded.
"He already came to you, seeking restoration, did he not?" Klath continued, "Mortath, son of K'Rath. The Khitomer conspirator."
At this, Karn flashed an angry look at K'Veth, realising that there was only one way that Klath could have been furnished with that particular detail.
"He did," Toran nodded with a disgusted leer.
"And you dismissed his case."
"I did. There is no room in the Empire for the son of one so traitorous. The houses of the Khitomer conspirators will remain poison for as long as the sun of Qo'noS remains burning. So I dismissed his case, and then did the same to his children."
Klath nodded, even as Karn and K'Veth looked down at the ground in shame.
"That was what this mission was about," he concluded, "You and your reputation had been his one hope of redemption. But instead, you humiliated Mortath, denied him his chance of restoration. He knew that you would do the same to his children. So he decided to take revenge against you, and your house."
Klath stepped away from the guilty pair, and bowed his own head with a slight look of shame.
"And he saw his opportunity to do so when I answered his call to deal with the infestation on Mentok colony."
"Explain," Toran grunted.
"He used my name on the delivery request, instead of his own. To ensure that there would be no suspicion surrounding our cargo as we made our way here. He used his own men to load the bloodwine onboard our ship, back at Mentok colony. And those same men were then used to complete the decontamination screening of the ship, to ensure that the additional cargo made it through unscathed. He even sent his own children here to see the plan through."
Klath paused for a moment, and sighed deeply.
"And Mortath also ensured that I did not sense any of this danger earlier. Because he made certain that I would be blinded to it, by offering me the one thing that I would overlook just about anything else for."
"A chance to reclaim your honour," Toran nodded in understanding, "No matter how futile such a quest."
Klath tried to not feel any fresh shame from the frankness of this comment. But he was only partly successful in that pursuit.
"Exactly," he nodded back, "And that was what Mortath needed to pursue his vengeance. He wanted to discredit you, to ruin your name and your house in return for you condemning him and his family to continued exile. And so, eighty years after Khitomer, Mortath organised his own conspiracy."
Toran glowered at Karn and K'Veth, who both remained silent.
"This is true?" he growled.
"Lies," Karn continued to insist, "You surely cannot believe-"
"It is the truth."
K'Veth's voice was quieter than Karn's, but still tinged with steel. She looked up from the ground, ignoring the fierce look from her brother, and stared at Klath with a sad smile. Klath, for his part, redoubled his efforts to ignore the feeling of strength he felt inside from the power of her look.
"You are defying your own father, K'Veth!" Karn snapped.
"Yes, I am," she nodded, "Because this is not the Klingon way. I can see that now. A greater Klingon than our father has shown me."
Klath shifted uncomfortably on his feet at this, as K'Veth returned her attention to Toran.
"Mortath gave us our orders," she continued, "He told us to make sure the delivery got here, in time for your meeting with your allies from the High Council. When the infestation was discovered, it would be enough to bring shame on your house. The same shame that Mortath has endured his entire life, and the one you refused to rescue him from. That was my father's plan."
Toran snarled slightly at her confession, as she maintained as proud a stance as she could under the circumstances. Inside, she prepared for the punishment that he would surely dole out now the truth was known.
But Toran had no time to react further.
Because then, the attack came.
'*'*'
'*'*'
A short distance away, the Bounty's crew had watched on with rapt attention, and no little relief, as Klath had come through for them. Even Sunek, though he would never openly admit it if asked, gave a nod of appreciation as the Bounty's weapons chief concluded his explanation.
The sense of relief among them rose as it became clear that it might not be the day of their executions after all.
Jirel mustered a grin and glanced over at Denella.
"Good plan," he whispered.
The Orion smiled and nodded back, but then her expression turned substantially more sour as she saw the attack commencing.
In one swift action, fast enough to catch everyone else completely off-guard, Karn dashed the short distance to the table where Toran's potential weapons of execution had been laid out, preparing to mete out justice to the Bounty's crew. He grabbed a mek'leth from the selection, then swung back around in a fluid motion to bring it to bear. And he charged.
Straight for Toran.
"Look out!" Denella found herself crying out.
It was a futile and meaningless gesture. The other Klingons were already keenly aware of what was happening.
As if in slow motion, the guards on either side reached for their own weapons. Toran went for the bat'leth that was sheathed on his back. But it was obvious that they were going to be too late. That Karn's blade was going to cut the High Council member down.
Karn swung his mek'leth at Toran's neck.
And it impacted with a solid metal object, mere inches from its target.
From out of nowhere, another bat'leth had entered the fray. One that had been particularly sharpened over the last few days.
And in the nick of time, Klath had come through for Toran as well.
'*'*'
'*'*'
The two bladed weapons collided in a kaleidoscopic shower of fiery sparks, and Klath forced Karn's blade backwards with a hefty blow.
Toran stepped back from the melee. His own weapon was now drawn, but he merely observed the fight for the moment. With a single raised hand, he stopped his guards from thinking of intervening as well. The High Council member was clearly intrigued to see how this would play out.
In the middle of the great hall, Klath and Karn growled with effort as they strained for the upper hand, with Karn pushing back on Klath's larger bat'leth with all of his might.
They broke apart, and Klath instinctively assumed a defensive posture.
He knew that Karn was at a slight weight disadvantage given the size of his mek'leth. But he also knew that the smaller weapon was easier to wield and quicker to bring to bear. So he knew he had to be ready for a swift attack each time they broke apart.
Karn charged again, and the blades collided in another shower of sparks. The two Klingons drew closer as they strained against each other.
"You ruined everything!" Karn spat, "My father deserved his vengeance!"
"He deserves nothing," Klath grunted back, "For such dishonourable actions. They bring disgrace to the Empire."
"As do you!" Karn hissed back.
With a fierce growl, they broke apart again. Klath swiftly parried the next blow that came in, before sweeping his two-handed weapon around in a wide arc to force Karn back onto the defensive.
Both of them were beginning to physically tire, but the blood lust that was coursing through them was enough to spur them on. And they continued to swing and parry, each move met with an equal countermove.
All around the great hall, their audience stood in rapt attention. From Toran's intrigue, to the confusion of his guards, through to the evident concern etched on the faces of the Bounty's crew, everyone's focus was on the fight.
Of all of those watching on, K'Veth stared most intently. A mass of conflicting feelings raced around inside her mind, as she tried to figure out something that seemed vitally important.
Who did she want to win?
Instinctively, she felt as though she should be wanting her brother to be victorious. They shared the same blood, after all, regardless of how their house was seen in the Empire. But after all that had happened, and all that she had seen of Klath, she realised that she didn't want that at all.
Another crashing blow from Karn's mek'leth was met by a deft two-handed block from Klath. More sparks burned through the air as the polished blades made heavy contact. Karn whirled away and backed off, panting heavily from the exertions.
"You are well practised," Klath noted, as he took a second to catch his own breath, "If only you had not chosen this path in life."
"I was never given that chance, was I?" Karn retorted, "Thanks to the High Council, nearly a century ago. What hope was there for me, or my father?"
Klath considered this for a moment, recalling his own recent flirtation with the concept of hope, and the way it had deserted him so quickly after Toran had dismissed his case. Perhaps there was some truth in Karn's words. But after a second, he shook his head defiantly.
"There is always hope," Klath countered, "Provided the warrior remains true to themselves."
"Another lie," Karn snarled.
He sprang forwards again and their blades clashed. They grappled for a moment, then broke apart once again. As soon as they were apart, Karn charged back in, his mek'leth raised above his head.
Klath recognised the manoeuvre. It was the same one that he had criticised him for when he had used it against Denella back on Mentok colony. And once again, his rash action would prove his downfall. He deftly evaded his charging opponent, before swinging his bat'leth back around and driving it into his side as he passed by, knocking him to the ground. The mek'leth fell from Karn's grasp and skittered away.
Without hesitation, he brought the other end of his weapon to bear, the edge of the blade arcing down towards the helpless Karn's exposed neck. His adversary, sprawled in a heap on the hard floor, was defenceless.
Completely defenceless.
In a split second, he stopped the bat'leth, close enough for it to graze Karn's skin. The younger Klingon stared up in wide-eyed shock. Klath kept the blade pressed against his neck for a moment longer, then looked up at Toran, and at K'Veth.
And he stepped back.
"You have heard their confession," he grunted at Toran, "They are yours to punish as you see fit."
The towering Klingon snapped a gesture at his guards, who both immediately marched across and grabbed a conspirator apiece in their grips. As Karn struggled and K'Veth remained stoic in the face of her own impending fate, Toran kept his attention on Klath.
"You defeated him fairly in combat," he said eventually, "You had the right to kill him."
"I did not mean to kill him," Klath countered, "Merely to disable him."
"Perhaps you have grown soft in your exile."
"Perhaps."
The two proud Klingons stared each other out across the great hall for several moments, as the rest of the gathered audience of Klingon, Trill, human, Vulcan and Orion eyes watched on. Eventually, Toran continued.
"I see you fight well, son of Morad. And it would appear I owe you my life."
Klath's expression didn't change, even as Toran looked a little more regretful for a moment.
"You understand that this act cannot change my decision," he continued darkly, "There is nothing more I can do for you and your case."
"That is your decision," Klath nodded, "But I only fought to defend your honour. Regardless of what the High Council may think of me, I would always do that."
Toran mustered a nod of understanding at this, before turning to Karn.
"Son of Mortath. You brought a plague to my house, and now you have tried to assassinate me with your blade. The son of Morad may have shown you leniency, but I will not be so gracious."
He waved a dismissive hand at his guards as Karn continued to angrily squirm in their grasp.
"Take him away."
As her snarling brother was dragged away, K'Veth felt Toran's gaze fall upon her, and felt a fresh rush of shame course through her. She found herself wondering, based on what she had learned about Klingons during a lifetime in exile, whether today was a good day for her to die. And how one even knew if that was what today was.
"As for you-"
"Toran," Klath called out, a little more intensely than he had been intending to.
The burly Klingon turned back to him, displaying further irritation on his face at this somewhat presumptive piece of interruption from the disgraced Klingon.
"The…infestation. It is still present?"
The irritation gave way to a deep scowl of anger at the mention of the menace in the stores of his estate.
"My men will deal with it," he replied icily, "For the sake of my honour, hopefully before my allies arrive. Even now, they draw ever nearer to Brexis II."
Klath nodded, then drew himself up, presenting his bat'leth in front of him and bowing his head. For now, he forced himself to temper the blood lust that was rising inside him again.
"Toran, son of Kradon. I do not expect you to agree, and I have no honour in my name to make such a request. But, as it was my vessel that brought the enemy to your gates, I humbly offer myself, and my own blade, in order to rid you of them."
He paused, and kept his head bowed.
"You do this to try and gain more favour?" Toran responded.
Klath finally looked back up, and shook his head firmly.
"You have already made it clear that there is nothing more I can do. I merely wish to fight this battle for myself. To undo the damage that we have inadvertently caused."
He gestured over to the other Bounty crew members, who were silently watching the scene unfold on the other side of the hall with their full attention. Even Natasha didn't react to the threat of another tribble hunt in the offing.
"You feel that this is the Klingon way?" Toran asked.
Klath considered the question for a moment, then simply looked back at Toran and shrugged his burly shoulders.
"I am not sure," he admitted, "But I feel that this is my way."
Now it was Toran's turn for a moment of consideration. It was true that he had enough men to try and deal with the plague, likely before his allies arrived. But it was equally true that he had always been a more open-minded member of the High Council.
"What you suggest is unorthodox," he replied eventually, "But…this has been something of an unorthodox day."
With that tacit sign of approval, Klath nodded back, hefted his bat'leth into his right hand, and then turned towards the exit. Toran gave his remaining guards a signal to suggest that they should let him leave.
Then, Klath glanced over at K'Veth, still being restrained. And he felt the need to act.
"Although," he said to Toran, as his eyes remained locked on K'Veth, "It may be more prudent for me not to go into battle alone."
Toran looked from Klath to K'Veth and back again. Then he sighed with a hint of a snarl.
It was turning into a very unorthodox day.
'*'*'
'*'*'
Moments later, Klath strode purposefully through the courtyard of Toran's estate, with his bat'leth still clasped in his hand. Alongside him, K'Veth clutched a similar weapon that had been reluctantly provided to her by one of Toran's guards.
Several other guards watched them make their way across the courtyard with curiosity. But they didn't bother to challenge the two unfamiliar armed Klingons. Toran had made sure that word got out to allow them to proceed.
As they neared the stores on the far side of the courtyard, Klath felt his blood lust rising all over again, as they approached their battleground.
"Why have you done this?" K'Veth asked as she walked alongside him, "I have made my own mistakes, and I do not want pity."
"And you will not get any," Klath affirmed, "But you must atone for what you have done here, K'Veth. You must recover your respect. And this battle will be a step towards that aim."
"It is the Klingon way?" she asked, echoing Toran's query from moments earlier.
Klath paused for a second, and suppressed a flinch, keeping a lid on the swirling passions that continued to thunder around inside of him.
"It is the only way."
She nodded in understanding as they walked on. Then, she looked at him again.
"And this will recover Toran's respect?"
He stopped on the spot, causing her to do the same. He turned and looked her squarely in the eye.
"You misunderstand," he replied, "This is not a quest to recover Toran's respect for you. This is a quest to recover your respect for yourself. It is the only way to live, as a dishonoured Klingon. There are things that the High Council can never take away from us, and that is one of them."
K'Veth nodded in fuller understanding, as the two Klingons stood toe-to-toe with each other in the middle of the courtyard.
"That is what you did with your life?" she asked him, "Recovered your respect for yourself?"
"That," Klath replied with complete honesty, "Is what I continue to do, every day."
With that, he snapped his attention back to the stores, and resumed his march. K'Veth fell in line alongside him once again.
"Tell me," he continued, "In all his teachings, did your father ever tell you of the story of General K'Vusk, and the Battle of Iota Geminorum?"
"No."
"Then I will tell it to you. It is a glorious story. But first…"
They reached the door to the stores.
"...This will be a glorious battle."
She nodded again, feeling her own blood lust rising inside her chest.
Like Kahless and Lukara, the two of them stood proudly in front of the yawning darkness inside the stores. Together, they raised their weapons, and charged forwards with a bloodthirsty pair of roars.
The tribbles didn't know what hit them.
'*'*'
'*'*'
"They're not gonna make us eat them this time, right?"
Sunek felt it was a question that needed asking, even as the Bounty's crew stood around in the great hall and waited patiently for Klath's return.
Denella shrugged back, while Jirel winced slightly at the memory of his last Klingon supper.
"Don't worry," he replied quietly, "I'll make sure we make our excuses before dinner is served."
Elsewhere in the group, Natasha looked significantly less amused as she leaned on the stone wall of the hall. Now the drama of Klath's confrontation was over, her sense of righteous indignation had returned with a vengeance.
"We could have just transported these ones away, you know," she pointed out, "Everyone knew they were there now. There was no need for subterfuge any more. And what those two are doing to those animals now is-"
"Ugh, doc, come on," Sunek groaned, "Do you ever shut up?"
"And that's Sunek saying that," Jirel chimed in with a lopsided grin, "Sunek."
The Vulcan glared unhappily at the Trill, even as Natasha tutted in disgust at the pair of them, refusing to back down just yet.
"I'm just saying, if everything we've been through here proves anything, it's that some Klingon traditions are just plain stupid. And I'm including 'dealing with tribbles by murdering them all' somewhere near the top of that list-"
"Hey," Jirel replied, "Maybe save the rest of that speech until we're definitely out of earshot of the dozens of heavily armed Klingons, hmm?"
"Or just save it forever?" Sunek offered, "That's good too."
Natasha's grimace deepened by several degrees.
"This is just the way they handle these things," Denella pointed out, a little more equitably, "And, in fairness, it tends to be pretty effective."
"Yeah, well," the other woman continued to grumble, "There's effective, and then there's-"
She was interrupted this time by the main doors to the great hall opening with a thud. Everyone gathered in the room turned to see that the warriors had returned from the battlefield. Klath and K'Veth walked in, side by side.
Both of them were exhausted from their exploits, dripping with sweat as they clutched their bat'leths. And both of them were covered in tribble blood.
They walked up to where Toran sat on his throne-like seat, with his guards flanking him.
"It is done," Klath said simply.
Toran nodded back. Klath looked over at the rest of the Bounty's crew, and took in the range of looks that were staring back at him. The openly amused look from Sunek. The understanding nod from Denella. The slightly queasy look from Jirel. And the disgusted scowl from Natasha.
He could have predicted each and every one. But he didn't really pay any attention to them.
Because he felt satisfied.