"Song of the Warrior" by Karg

K'Rul looked up from the klin-zha board as the two small children entered the room. "Is it not your bed time?" he asked them.

"Grandfather," one of the children began tenetively, "We would like to hear a story first."

"A story about a great warrior." the other said eagerly.

K'Rul thought for a moment. "Very well. I will tell you of the greatest warrior that I have ever known but not of his adventures. This will be a story of his beginings."

The two children grined and settled at the old Klingon's feet.

As K'Rul began, he noticed that many of the adults of the house were also gathering in the room. "This story takes place long ago, in the year 2244. The Empire was at war with the Romulans and we had yet to encounter the Federation. It was a time before transporters or cloaking devices and the newest ship was the D-4. Capable of warp 3. A very differnt time then the one that we live in today. Dray'nar was the captain of such a ship."



"Are we within tractor beam range yet?" Dray'nar demanded as his ship, the Death Howl, was rocked by another hit from one of the Romulan ships. It was a D-4 and one of the newest ships in the Empire but even it wouldn't be able to withstand the assault that it was being brought against it for long.

"Not yet sir." came the reply. "Every time we get close, the Romulans drive us back."

Dray'nar pounded the arm of the command chair in frustration. "I don't want excuses!" he bellowed. "If we aren't able to get to the Foestriker and tow it out of here now, it's crew will all be dead! Get us within range, now!" An explosion on the main viewscreen caught his eye. "Good. We've destroyed another Romulan ship. How many are left?"

"Six more." the tactical officer reported.

"Well, at least the odds are getting better, eh?" Dray'nar grinned. Suddenly, the ship was rocked again and another blast immediately followed it.

"Four Romulan ships have take up position between us and the Foestriker!" the tactical officer reported.

"Fire at will! Stay on course towards the Foestriker!" Dray'nar ordered. He glanced at his helmsman. He was young and Dray'nar could smell the fear coming from him, but the young warrior hid it well. As the ship drew closer it was repeatedly rocked by enemy fire.

"Forward shields are failing Captain." The first officer reported.

"Stay on course." Dray'nar repeated.

"Sir, three more Romulan ships have just entered the area." the tactical officer reported. "We can't hope to win against that many vessels." Dray'nar hissed in frustration. "Helm! Get us as close to the Foestriker as you can quickly. Then we will fight our way out of here."

"Sir, I won't be able to quickly get within tractor beam range. It will take some time." The helmsman reported. His voice showed no signs of the fear that he was feeling.

"I said to get us as close as you can quickly. We are no longer concerned about getting within tractor beam range." Dray'nar snapped.

"Sir! What about the crew of the Foestriker?" the first officer demanded. "We can't leave them to die!"

"They're already dead, K'Voch! As you will be if you question my orders again!" Dray'nar snapped. "Weapons! Ready photon torpedoes! Fire on the Foestriker as soon as you have a clear shot!" The weapons officer nodded and Dray'nar turned back to K'Voch. "If there are any of the crew of the Foestriker left alive, better that they die in battle than be captured by the Romulans."

K'Voch scowled but said nothing. The Foestriker appeared on the main viewscreen and in a moment two photon torpedoes streaked toward it and it disappeared in a blinding flash. The ship rocked once more. "Forward shields are gone sir." The tactical officer reported.

"Helm! Get us out of here now!" Dray'nar ordered. Seeing K'Voch's disapproving look he said, "Only a fool fights in a burning house."

"Preparing to go to warp." the helmsman reported.

"Incoming torpedo!" The tactical officer reported.

Dray'nar looked at the viewscreen and watched the torpedo grow larger. Suddenly there was a roar and a blinding flash of light.

Dray'nar opened his eyes and sat up in the command chair. Everything was quiet and the viewscreen showed only stars. He looked around and appeared to be alone. He looked closer at his surroundings. He was clearly still on the bridge of the Death Howl but things seemed different. The ship seemed changed somehow. Newer. A hand on his shoulder caused him to jump involuntarily. He looked up and saw K'Voch standing next to him.

"What happened? Where is the rest of the crew?" K'Voch asked.

"I'm not sure." Dray'nar said slowly. Other warriors stepped into view around them and Dray'nar knew that they were members of his crew. He recognized the tactical officer and the young helmsman.

Just then, they heard a sound like the roar of voices. It started softly, behind them, but not from the ship. It seemed to come from space itself. As the sound moved closer, it grew louder. The ship rocked as the sound passed through them and continued beyond, fading as it went. As the last of the sound disappeared, a ship appeared in front of them. Then another, then hundreds, then thousands. They were Klingon ships of all ages and models. As Dray'nar and K'Voch watched the ships began to fire their disruptors.

K'Voch's hand tightened on Dray'nar's shoulder. "They're attacking us."

"No." Dray'nar answered. "They're greeting us."



The young Klingon boy opened his eyes and sat up in bed. The dream, it was more like a vision, had been so vivid that he felt like he was still on the bridge of the Deathhowl. He got up and went to the window. He was grateful to see that the clouds were absent, allowing him to see the stars. He heard a noise behind him and felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"What are you doing out of bed my son?" his mother asked.

"Where does the Black Fleet sail? the boy asked, ignoring the question.

"It sails where it will." His mother replied.

"Do you think that father knows that I will avenge his death?" he wondered.

"Dray'nar was a great and honored warrior with a great and honored son. He would expect nothing less." his mother replied. "But the avengement of Dray'nar will have to wait. Even great and honored sons need their sleep."

The boy allowed himself to be put back to bed.

"Jaj ram my son." his mother said as she left the room.

"Jaj ram mother." he answered. He waited until he was sure that she was gone then pulled the meq'leth from beneath his pillow. It had been his fathers and now it was his. It had been passed down from father to son for generations, ever since one of his distant ancestors had forged it long ago. He found that holding the ancient blade, turning it over in his hands, comforted him. When he had first held the blade, he had expected the metal to be cold and hard but it had always felt warm to him. As if the fires of the forge, which had helped create it, still burned inside. Holding it always helped him to hear the song of the warrior and as the song unfolded, the spirits of all of his warrior ancestors seemed to emerge from the blade and lend their voices to it. As his eyes grew heavy, he listened to the song of the warrior coming from within him and to the voices of his ancestors that sang with it. His mother had no idea how loud and strong it was. One day he would be a warrior and it would drive him to do great things. But tonight it was quieter and he was satisfied to allow it to lull him back to sleep to dream of the day when his name, the name of Kor, was both respected and feared throughout the Empire."



As K'Rul finished the story, those assembled in the room remained quiet. Looking down, he saw that his grandchildren had also fallen fast asleep.





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