Paint and Powder
A Star Trek anthology by Andrew Joshua Talon
DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit fan based work of prose. Star Trek: The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager et al are the property of CBS Television, and creation of Gene Roddenberry. Please support the official release.
2368
IKS Voh'tahk
K'Nera, of the House of Kruge, had not intended to enter military service. His house was associated with failure, despite the sacrifices Kruge had made to try and bring back vital intelligence to the Empire. Despite the hard work B'rel and Malz, his own grandfather, had put in to keep the Empire on an even footing with the Federation.
They had fallen to the status of a Middle House, and had taken to technical and scholarly pursuits. Things the Great Houses outwardly disdained, but were nevertheless dependent on. They were not liked, but they had made themselves indispensable-Especially in understanding Federation technology.
And while trained in engineering, K'Nera had a different path in mind when he reached adulthood.
K'Nera had been hoping to become an honored teaching monk on Boreth when he finished his schooling. To really understand the secrets behind Kahless' call to honor, the struggle with life, and to help others understand it? That was his calling. His mother had also been a teacher, and taught him in the great classics of Klingon philosophy, poetry, and history. She had instilled in him a pride in their great people, but also an understanding of their flaws. He had read classics of the Federation and Romulans, too, and found that while there were many differences, there were also similarities. Ones he had hoped to study.
Then, his father and older brothers had been killed by a Romulan sneak attack on the starbase they had been serving on. He was now the heir, and had to show his warrior mettle. So, he joined the Klingon Defense Force. And while there was honor... There was still so much politicking behind the shiny armor and weapons.
K'Nera had never enjoyed politics. As much as Great House Klingons might bluster about their warrior pride, much of their rank was bought in conversations and deals behind the scenes. Promises and deception. One chancellor painting his ancestor Kruge as a hero, the next a villain, based on what they wanted.
It disgusted K'Nera.
But he had learned to play the game. He would not bring a dak'tagh to a disruptor fight, as the old saying went.
What set him apart from many of his contemporaries was the simple fact that he did not pretend that quv was the same as batlh. Too many Klingons (not helped by outsiders) thought that quv, referring to respect and reputation, meant the same thing as balth, which is what Kahless really spoke of.
Integrity. Discipline. Principle.
That was true honor. And it had not gone unnoticed.
He had been promoted to General, and chosen to command the IKS Voh'tahk, the same AI that once served the great Kang. A Vor'cha-class attack cruiser, he had been appointed to command a fleet of nearly twenty Klingon ships to assist the Federation against a race known as the Borg.
He could still see the devastation when he closed his eyes. The wreckage of so many ships drifting, torn apart like carcasses scavenged by a great beast. Not a one of them had tried to flee. Not a one of them had surrendered.
Even the Endeavour, the only Starfleet ship to survive the battle, had been wrecked nearly beyond salvaging, fighting on until she couldn't.
Such courage was humbling.
Several of his younger officers had scoffed at the Federation 'begging' for their help, mocked them for their softness... Well... He had made sure they all helped with the search and rescue after.
K'Nera was pleased to see that most had gained wisdom from this. Or at least, learned to keep their damn mouths shut.
He had deeply regretted arriving a day late. It may not have mattered... But that these brave souls had fought and died so well, like the ancient heroes of old? That he had been late to aid them?
That wore on K'Nera heavily. He had been asked for help by beings that had fought like Klingons, and died. And he had not been there.
He still remembered sitting in his ready room, seeking solace in the writings of Kahless. Something to allow him to overcome the guilt and disgust he felt with himself for arriving far too late to matter.
"I want to stay and help."
K'Nera looked up at the voice. There stood Voh'tahk. She resembled a Klingon pirate of the time of Kahless: A seafaring warrior, in red and yellows tunics and light leathers, armed with a pike and her hair covered in a black waDwach fabric with golden rings decorating it.
Her eyes were narrowed.
"They fought this great battle... We must do what we can for them," she insisted.
K'Nera stared at her, impassive. She scowled, proud... But finally, she admitted the truth.
"I... We could all hear the screams of their Ba'yod, as they were taken by the Borg," she stated, "how they... Kept screaming. That cube... It was nothing less than the Abyss of Moloth itself. No hope... No release..."
She shook her head furiously.
"They deserved better than that," she declared.
K'Nera nodded gravely.
"They did," he said, "and that is why I have asked Chancellor K'mpec to allow us to operate in Federation space for a time. To... Aid them."
"Has he said yes?" Voh'tahk asked eagerly.
"I suspect he will," K'Nera said sagely, "this loss of face is unacceptable to any Klingon warrior. To be late to such a battle... I expect we will be given a wide latitude."
Voh'tahk scoffed.
"Now you speak like a politician."
"Politics too is war," he replied dryly, "but with different weapons. It is wise to know all the ways to fight. Do you not agree?"
Voh'tahk chuckled.
"I see now why Kang was fine with your ascension, despite your lack of noble blood," she stated. K'Nera smirked.
"Nobility is based on actions, not blood," he stated, "Kahless was no king when he began."
"And now you compare yourself to him?" Voh'tahk asked wryly.
"Yes, and I find I am still wanting," K'Nera stated calmly, "but perhaps... I have moved a bit closer in understanding."
K'Nera was proven correct. The Task Force, designed Attack Fleet 88, was to aid the Federation in defense wherever they had a need. They were to obey the commands of local Federation authorities, save in areas that they contradicted with Klingon law, and adhere to the local laws.
Some of his same younger crewmen grumbled about a lack of action... But K'Nera was patient. And knew patience was rewarded.
And so it came to pass, a mere month after Wolf 359, while patrolling near Durenia IV, a major Federation colony near Cardassian and Talarian space, they got the first sign of action.
Twenty Talarian raiders formed up near a rogue planet that was drifting by the major warp trade route. A convoy of fifty civilian vessels had gathered together, joining their warp bubbles together to fly more efficiently.
The Talarians thought they were going to be able to ambush all these Federation freighters with impunity. The subspace radio chatter between them all spoke of eager young warriors, excited at the prospect of a kill.
As a barely organized mob, the twenty ships erupted from behind the rogue planet, moving to intercept the convoy of ships. Their plan was to daringly dart in front of them, forcing them out of warp, and then raid them at their leisure.
A bold strategy, to be sure.
But foolish.
"Declock," K'Nera ordered, sitting on his bridge.
As one, twenty Klingon warships decloaked in front of the Talarian raiding party, arrayed for battle. The Talarians slowed frantically, reversing thrust on their impulse engines as they confronted the Klingon warships.
Behind the Klingons, the Federation convoy flew past.
"Sir," Gruk, his communications officer, spoke with a hand pressed to her earpiece, "the Federation vessels are asking about our situation."
K'Nera smirked.
"Tell them it's nothing to worry about. Continue on their way. We shall handle it," he stated. He stood up. "Hail the Talarians."
"Channel open."
The Talarian bridges were cramped, but brightly lit. The humanoid captain scowled back at them, as K'Nera didn't bother to hide his sharp toothed smile.
"I am Captain K'Nera, of the IKS Voh'tahk," he introduced himself, "you are in violation of the Treaty of Beloti. Depart, or be destroyed."
The Talarian scoffed.
"The Federation now must rely on their Klingon lapdogs?! In that giant hunk of tin?!"
Voh'tahk seethed. K'Nera's smirk widened.
"In my culture, I would be well within my rights to destroy your vessel, capture your crew, and torture them all to death in the most gruesome ways imaginable," K'Nera stated calmly, "we do not take insults well. However, as we are operating with our Federation allies, I will instead offer you one last chance to turn and leave."
The Talarians cut the channel... And charged, weapons blazing. K'Nera shook his head.
"Open fire, all weapons!"
The battle was brief. The Talarians could be clever, but only with time to prepare. These warriors had been young, brave... And stupid.
The last vessel exploded from a salvo delivered from the Voh'Tahk herself. She looked very pleased with herself.
"Calling me a hunk of tin, hmph," she snarled.
"The opinions of the dead matter little, Voh'tahk," K'Nera stated, "begin clean up. Send a full report to the local Federation starbase, they will want to do their own investigation of this. Oh, and by all means, Voh'tahk? Send your recordings of this battle to the Talarians. If they wish to die... We will provide them many opportunities to do so."
Voh'tahk smirked.
"As you wish, Admiral..."
And so it went. Attack Fleet 88, with some reinforcements, patrolled the Tholian and then Cardassian borders. They had a fair amount of action with the Tholians, who didn't care about treaties (or dying). The Cardassians wisely steered clear-Which was a bit disappointing, but K'Nera supposed they had learned from the Betreka Nebula Incident.
They split up the fleet to cover more ground over the next few months. Orion pirates got more daring. A few Gorn and Breen tried their luck, too. K'Nera's fleet fought them all.
The funny part was, doing things "the Federation way" actually seemed to make their enemies more eager to fight and try to attack them and Federation targets. As though a Klingon offering a warning was a sign that they were weak.
K'Nera shook his head. Stupidity, it seemed, was a universal constant.
Not that the battles were unwelcome, of course. He was still Klingon.
His crews gained valuable experience and glory, and even accolades from the locals!
His first officer had gotten nine marriage proposals! And was seriously considering three of them!
His engineers had worked with Federation engineers, and their warp core efficiency had increased by 20 percent! K'Nera had no idea what those wizards had wrought, but Voh'tahk had been overjoyed.
He'd had dinner with a number of Federation officers and officials, even an anthropologist who eagerly studied them. A Doctor Saltzman out of Earth. He seemed harmless enough, so K'Nera tolerated him. Voh'tahk liked how he wrote about her, a 'fearsome pirate princess!'
Vanity in an AI! The humor of the Universe was often beyond K'Nera.
But their voyage continued to be a source of prestige and good relations with the Federation, and K'mpec authorized extensions of the detachment-right after his death.
If K'Nera was a betting Klingon, he would suspect K'mpec did so quite deliberately. The High Council's ruling to discommendate Worf, Son of Mogh, had not been taken well by many who remembered the generosity and honor of that House. K'Nera himself still remembered General Worf, Mogh's father, helping the House of Kruge set up work on what Genesis Data they had recovered. They had worked as engineers and scholars for Mogh, as well as many other Houses-But Mogh's house had treated them properly. With respect.
K'Nera had met Mogh's son, Worf, only once. He had been honorable in dealing with some Klingon fugitives. The conduct of the Enterprise's crew had been excellent.
To think he was a traitor was... Well. It was impossible. Mogh? Betray them to the Romulans?
Unthinkable.
But K'Nera had no resources or connections that might let him find the truth, nor do anything about it.
So K'Nera did his duty with his fleet, staying well out of the crisis. Still earning glory and honor for the Empire, and for their allies.
He sat in his ready room, as Attack Fleet 88 refueled, refit and rearmed at Starbase 375, near the Federation/Cardassian Border. Some Federation task force wanted to rechart the Badlands, and they were in the right position to aid it. The promise of sharing the intelligence was one the Federation always kept, so K'Nera was keen to work with them.
Which is when the comm buzzed. He checked the sender.
His heart fell. He sucked in a deep breath, and hit "receive".
"Greetings, Admiral K'Nera," Lursa simpered. Her sister, Be'Tor, smirked from the other side. "We hear you have been doing great works for the Empire... And the Federation."
"It is my duty," K'Nera replied, as blandly as possible. Lursa chuckled.
"Your reticence is most unusual, K'Nera. One might think you were a Vulcan, instead of a Klingon!"
"'The cold storm brings death as surely as flames,'" K'Nera stated, calm and assured. A moment of incomprehension was on both sisters' faces. "A saying of Kahless," he added.
"You always have such a way with words," Be'Tor smirked, "when you use them."
K'Nera's eyes were level with them.
"Speak plainly. I have work to do."
"Fair," Lursa said, "we offer you and House Kruge an alliance. To join our coalition, to rule the Empire."
"With Duras' bastard?" K'Nera stated flatly.
"He is the heir to our brother's house," Be'Tor stated angrily, "he should rule the Empire!"
"With you guiding him, of course," K'Nera observed. Lursa's eyes narrowed in cunning.
"Your House has been dishonored more than enough, don't you think Admiral?" Lursa asked, tone dripping with sympathy, "the actions of Kruge have lowered your esteem. But if you were to side with us... Offer guidance... Your fleet-We could change that. Put you back on the High Council."
"
My fleet is assisting the Federation at the moment, per the terms of our alliance," K'Nera stated.
"They can take care of themselves!" Be'tor spat. "We have done them more than enough!"
"What say you, K'Nera?"
Lursa asked. "We can have your orders changed. Bring you home... To fight at our side. What say you?"
K'Nera considered many things in that moment.
One, K'mpec had died by poison. This was known. That Duras had done it was the truth, but suppressed out of fear or to bolster support for them.
Two, Duras' house had historically had dealings with the Romulans. Oh, nothing certain, that was true. But more than enough things went said and unsaid.
Three, the sisters wanted to recall their fleet, which had done so much for relations with the Federation. Such an act done so abruptly would be a huge insult to the Federation. But they would only want that done if they didn't care what the Federation might think.
They would only want that if they were willing to ally with another power. And there was only one such candidate.
Four... If he outright refused, he would be doing so to a house that was perfectly willing to poison the Chancellor to achieve its aims. And could easily have him killed in the same way.
"I will need time to consider my decision," K'Nera stated.
"We will make the order plain then, so you do not need to make a decision," Lursa stated, now harsh. "This is not a game, Admiral."
"Then why offer me the choice at all?" K'Nera asked dryly.
"Because you deserved one," Be'Tor simpered, as sincere as a two credit whore. "But don't take too long making your choice... Out."
The screen went dark. K'Nera leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nostrils. Voh'tahk appeared next to him, concerned.
"What are we going to do?" She asked.
"First off? Pray."
"That works?"
K'Nera chuckled.
"Hasn't failed me yet..."
K'Nera was doing some paperwork in his ready room. There always was, and always would be. Honestly, it was exhausting.
He'd take a fight with an angry Gorn over paperwork.
Voh'tahk materialized next to him, and he looked up.
"Report," he stated.
Voh'tahk grimaced.
"Gowron was chosen as Chancellor... But the majority of the High Council rejected him in favor of the Duras," she explained, "he has some support, but not much."
K'Nera shook his head with a sigh.
"I knew the Duras sisters were devious... But the entire High Council?" He frowned. "Any word of the Middle Houses?"
"Many have joined with their Great Houses... A lot are undecided." She hummed. "Or are being slow to respond."
"And of... My other request?" K'Nera asked.
Voh'tahk grumbled.
"Many engineers are willing to take their time on repairs... But the Duras Sisters see the fleet reports and probably have spies aboard. My sisters haven't caught any, but there are ways around us. It's a good chance they know our true situation."
She brightened.
"I did get to talk with Enterprise though!"
K'Nera nodded slowly.
"Well... That is a great honor but I don't see how-"
"She said she had talked to her captain, and he is sending someone to help," Voh'tahk stated. "Indeed, he'll be here right about..."
She opened the door to the ready room. A human male with a beard in command red, about thirty-forty years of age, entered with a briefcase.
"Qua'pla, Admiral K'Nera," he said, "I am Commander Richard Tuckman, Federation JAG. Enterprise told me you had an... Issue?"
"That is an understatement," K'Nera said dryly, motioning for the human to sit in the chair across from his, "what can you do for us?"
"Well, uh, first off, thank you so much for accepting my help," the human babbled, "I mean, I have to put up with Starfleet captains thinking they're too good to talk to a lawyer, or even use us, and represent themselves and everything-"
"Your point?!" Voh'tahk demanded, slamming her pike end loudly into the deck. Tuckman stuttered, cleared his throat, and then opened his briefcase.
"Right. I actually do a lot of research on Klingon law. Especially recent laws-It's pretty fascinating. And I found some... Uh... Legal precedents that might help you and your fleet."
"The Duras Sisters care little for law," K'Nera said blandly, even as he looked over the briefs.
"True, but many Klingons do," Voh'tahk said, grinning, "and what Tuckman has found? Is something even they can't fight."
K'Nera read, his face, at first, skeptical. His eyebrows went up. By the end... He had a smile.
"Commander Tuckman," he said, "you're sure of this?"
"Completely, one hundred percent sure!" Tuckman declared.
"Then I believe we will proceed," K'Nera said.
Four days later, Attack Fleet 88 arrived at the Klingon/Federation border. They arrived at Archer IV, and K'Nera stood up on the bridge. He looked to his comms officer, Gruk. She nodded.
"You are on, Admiral."
His transmission went out as far as it would reach. And on the viewscreen, he got to see the faces of his beloved crews. Such wonderful warriors they had been.
But the biggest window was for the Duras Sisters, and Toral, their nephew, who were watching in unison as he began.
"Brave warriors of Attack Fleet 88," he began, "you started as worthless, pathetic excuses for Klingons! The worst of the worst!"
He paused, and then grinned fondly.
"You have grown into true warriors. Not just fierce, but disciplined, wise, and cunning. You have all made me and your Empire proud."
He nodded.
"But now, we are called upon to fight to decide the fate of our great Empire. No true warrior can turn his or her back on such a great task. None can ignore the call of the warrior, to follow along on the path of Kahless. Therefore! Let all warriors who seek to take part in this conflict, go on! You do honor to your names, and honor to your families. Those bound to fight? Fight! And fight well!"
The two sisters and their nephew were smirking now. Perfect.
"Voh'tahk, if you will show the exterior of the fleet?" K'Nera asked his faithful ship. Voh'tahk grinned, bright and toothy.
"With pleasure, Admiral~."
They projected the feed, showing over thirty of the Klingon Empire's finest warships, all standing by...
As three small shuttles left one, headed out a bit, and then jumped to warp.
But no other vessels followed.
The gaping looks on the faces of the Duras Sisters and their nephew would be a treasured memory for K'Nera, for a very, very long time.
"What... What is this?!" Be'tor demanded.
"What are you doing?!" Toral shouted. "Why are you just sitting there?!"
K'Nera drew himself up to his full height, and smiled pleasantly at the screen (for a Klingon). He liked to imagine he was looking them right in the eyes.
"Those are members of Houses sworn to Houses aligned with the Duras family, or Gowron," K'Nera said, slowly, as though he was dealing with particularly slow ensigns on his ships. He certainly had enough practice.
"You are Klingons! We are in control of the High Council!" Lursa sputtered. "This is treason-!"
"Do not speak to me of treason, Lursa," K'Nera said, cold, calm and deadly, "not when you do not know what you speak of."
"You-!"
K'Nera held up a PADD, and continued speaking as he read off the page.
"Under the Middle House Alliance Law of the Year of Kahless 992, sponsored and argued for by Gowron, son of M'Rel, Middle and Lower Houses are freed from the obligation of automatic alliance and allegiance to a Great House," he read, "they are permitted to ally with other Middle Houses for common purpose, including military, financial, and other pursuits. While they do not need to swear allegiance and enter into alliance with a Great House, all must swear allegiance to the current Chancellor of the Klingon Empire before engaging in any activities of a military, economic or other nature."
"But you're Middle Houses! You have to obey us!" Toral shouted. Honestly, whatever whore Duras had gotten him out of had given the child the most annoying voice.
"No, we do not," K'Nera stated calmly, "not unless we have sworn allegiance to the House of Duras or one of the Great Houses aligned with you. And even then, you would need to have us undergo the proper rituals and agreements before we would swear ourselves to you. And none of the ships of this fleet are sworn to you. Those who are sworn have gone off to join you, as they should and must under Klingon honor and law. But the rest of these ships are of Middle and Lower Houses that are not aligned with you or your allies. We are neutral."
"But we control the High Council!" Be'tor shouted, slamming her fist down on the table, "we are the rulers of the Klingon Empire!"
K'Nera allowed himself the tiniest smirk.
"Given we are in a state of civil war, that is not true in the slightest," K'Nera continued, looking down at his PADD, "legally, during a civil war, any non-aligned Houses are honorbound and legally required to follow their last orders from the last recognized Chancellor of the Klingon Empire. That was K'mpec, as you recall. Who ordered us to aid and assist our allies, the Federation."
"You can't just-!" Lursa raged, but Voh'Tahk helpfully muted her.
"Do not despair, Duras sisters, and young Toral," K'Nera said calmly, "we shall do our duty to our Empire. We will patrol our border with the Federation, preventing them from interfering in our affairs. While we are allies, we are Klingons. And we settle things on our own."
That this would free up Federation assets to put pressure on the Romulan side of the Empire's border to keep them from interfering as well did not need to be said. He could tell the sisters had realized this by the furious anger in their eyes.
Perhaps they weren't quite as stupid as he thought they were.
Quite.
He smiled.
"As always, honored Lursa, honored Be'tor, and young Toral, we live to serve the Empire. Qa'plah! In all your future endeavors."
"But-But-!"
"Off," he said, and the channel closed. Many of his officers laughed. Others tried not to, but couldn't hide smiled.
Voh'tahk gave her captain a warm, admiring smile.
"'It is wise to know all the ways to fight,'" she quoted.
K'Nera nodded, and then shrugged.
"Bloodshed and destroyed foes are wonderful... But the look on their faces? That is truly worthy of song."
A few minutes later, K'Nera came down into the Voh'tahk's messhall. He raised a bony brow at the sight his crew had called him down for.
"Yesssh! YESH! I AM A LAWYER! FUCK YEAH!" Tuckman cheered, several bottles of bloodwine scattered around his table. He wobbled and waved, but held onto his drink. "FUCK YEAH! NO CAPTAIN TAKIN' MY JOB! YESH! HELL YESH!"
"How... Did he drink that much so quickly?" Voh'Tahk asked, in disbelief.
"Humans," K'Nera laughed, "never boring."
K'Nera appeared in TNG's "Heart of Glory" as an even handed Klingon commander after some fugitives. I thought that making him a warrior-priest, a paladin of Klingons, might be interesting.
Naturally, Richard Tuckman is the Starfleet Lawyer from the funny YouTube video, "Starfleet Lawyer".