KLINGON!  [065-4.9]

BY DEAN WESLEY SMITH AND KATHRYN KRISTINE RUSCH

Synopsis:

A KLINGON IS NOT BORN A WARRIOR!

Gowron, leader of the Klingon Empire, addressed the assembled Starfleet
officers.  He pulled out his knife and stuck it deep into the tabletop.

"Being a warrior is something that must be earned.  Before I earned this
knife, I owned a ghoimeh tai, a boy's knife."

Gowron glanced around at his audience for a moment.  "This story is
about Pok, son of Torghn, my friend and ally.  A mere boy with a ghoimeh
tai.  I will tell you how Pok became a warrior...

The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized.  If you
purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was
reported to the publisher as "unsold and destroyed." Neither the author
nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this "stripped
book."

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents
are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS

POCKET BO<)KS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

Copyright  1996 by Paramount Pictures.  All Rights Reserved.

STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of

Paramount Pictures.

This book is published by Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster
Inc., under exclusive license from Paramount Pictures.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or
portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket
Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN: 0-671-00257-0

First Pocket Books printing May 1996

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 I

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.

Printed in the U.S.A.

Authors' Note

This book takes place before Commander Sisko is promoted to captain.  At
that time the Klingon Empire and the Federation were still working
together, at least in a limited fashion.

Chapter One

THE YRIDIAN PILOT smelled like an abandoned fishprocessing plant on
Balor 6.  Layers of stink and dirt covered him and the raglike clothes
he wore like coats of paint.  He huddled his huge frame against a
support pillar on the upper deck of the Promenade, trying to look as if
he didn't stand out.  But his odor warned anyone of his presence a dozen
paces away.

He'd come to Deep Space Nine to make some money.  Some very good money,
as far as he was concerned.  Enough for him to buy a new trader ship to
replace the one he'd lost in a bungled smuggling operation with a stupid
Ferengi.

He glanced around, watching the few humans below closely.  A Klingon
warrior strode purposefully along the railing of the upper deck.  His
knife clanked softly against his leg and he walked with a confidence
only KLIingon warriors had.  As he passed the trader he stopped suddenly,
then turned to face the Caxtonian. He wrinkled his nose and stepped back
a full step. "Are you Kathpa?"

The Yridian trader nodded.  "Are you-"

The Klingon warrior held up his hand for the trader to stop, then
glanced around.  The Promenade below had a few midafternoon shoppers,
all humanoids.  Not one seemed to be paying the odd meeting any
attention.

"It does not matter who I am," the Klingon said. He reached into his
breast pocket and pulled out a small wrapped package.  He tossed it hard
against the chest of the trader without coming closer.  The package made
a smacking sound as it hit and the trader caught it before it dropped to
the ground.

"Your first payment," the Klingon warrior said, his voice low and firm.
"If you fail, you will die.  If you succeed, you will be rich.  Make
sure you do not fail."

The trader pulled the package into a hidden pocket in his rags and
smiled at the Klingon, showing a full mouth of yellowed and rotting
teeth.  "I prefer being rich over being dead."

The Klingon snorted and turned away.

The Yridian trader watched him go for a moment, then moved away from the
pillar, heading in the opposite direction.

After they were both out of sight, what looked to be nothing more than a
painted bulge along the edge of the pillar a dozen steps away from where
the meeting
had occurred started to melt onto the floor.  It soon reformed into the
shape of Odo, the changeling who served as chief security officer on
Deep Space Nine.

Odo's earth-toned uniform and expressionless face formed with the rest
of him.  He glanced first in the direction the Yridian had gone, then in
the other direction after the Klingon.  "I don't like the sound of
that," he said aloud.  Then, at a fast walk, he started after the
Klingon.

The patrons of Quark's bar had the feel of a crowd verging on being out
of control.  Quark was behind the bar.  From where Commander William T.
Riker sat at a large, empty table below the Dabo games, he could only
catch a glimpse of the Ferengi and his big ears through the crowd
pressing the bar for drinks.  Rom, Quark's brother, looked as if he was
about to burst into tears as he fought through the crowd with tray after
tray full of drinks and empty glasses.  Riker found himself feeling
sorry for the small Ferengi. Quark always treated Rom like a slave
instead of a brother.  And with this many people in the bar, Quark
continuously yelled at the smaller-eared Rom to do this or that task.

Rom almost dropped Riker's drink in front of him, then mumbled his
apologies.

"No problem," Riker said, but the Ferengi had already turned and was
scampering to the next table.

Riker took a sip and let himself savor the sweetness of his brandy while
he looked around.  The patrons of
the bar were divided into fairly even numbers.  A third were Klingons,
most of whom had arrived with Gowron for the meetings with the
Federation.  The Klingons were making the most noise, talking and
laughing the hardest and the loudest.  Klingons not only fought with
more gusto than humans, they drank and laughed more.  It was one of the
many things Riker liked about them.

Another third of the bar's patrons were Federation and Starfleet
personnel, a large number of whom were also here for the meeting.  The
humans seemed to huddle in small groups, heads forward, talking almost
in whispers.  And all still wore their uniforms, just as he did.

The final third were Quark's normal alien customers, including Bajorans,
two Cardassians, Yridian traders, and a host of others from a dozen
races through the sector.  They seemed to be paying the Federation and
Klingon patrons no attention at all.

Normally Riker would have enjoyed the feeling of Quark's this evening.
He liked a place that had an air of excitement to it.  But with the
meeting between the Klingons and the Federation going on here on DS9,
the tension in the bar felt more dangerous, as if a war might break out
at any time.

Riker sipped his drink and forced himself to relax. For the moment he
was alone.  And every moment alone these days was to be treasured.

Another sip and Riker saw that Captain Jean-Luc Picard, followed by
Commander Benjamin Sisko, was
slowly winding his way through the crowd toward Riker.  Not far behind
them was Commander Worf, followed by Chancellor Gowron, head of the
Klingon High Council, Gowron's guard, and Rear Admiral Admiral Edward
Jellico from the United Federation of Planets.

Jellico, unlike Picard, had a full head of gray hair. He was a tall man,
standing a good six feet six inches. And he never seemed to smile. About
halfway through today's meeting with Gowron and the two other
representatives of the Klingon High Council, Riker wondered if Jellico
had ever smiled in his life.  When Jellico had been promoted to Admiral,
Riker had hoped never to serve under him again.

For the first time since Riker's last run in with Jellico, Riker
remembered just why he hated the guy so much.

Riker stood as the other officers joined the table, with Jellico luckily
finding a chair on the opposite side, as far away from Riker as
possible.

Riker turned his attention to the Klingon leader. Gowron had an air of
power around him.  He had pronounced ridges on his head, and his arms
and shoulders were full and powerful.  He was the best warrior in a
culture of warriors.  He had not gotten to that position by being either
weak or stupid.

As if by magic, Quark appeared at the table just as Jellico finished
pulling his chair up.  "What can I get you gentlemen to drink?" His
smile seemed almost real and Riker managed to keep his laugh to a faint

chuckle.  Quark, of course, served the table of important people.  That
was just like him.  From this table he might gain something to make him
a profit beyond the price of the drinks.  He would never trust such a
table to his brother.

"Blood wine," Gowron said, his voice powerful.  He swept his hand around
at the entire table.  "For everyone."

Picard held up his hand and Riker again managed to hold back a laugh.

"Tea for me," Picard said.  "Earl Grey.  Hot."

"Nothing for me," Sisko said.

"Water," Jellico said.  Then he glared at Quark. "And make sure it's
pure."

Quark said, "Of course." And then smiled at the admiral.

Riker purposefully said nothing.  He would accept Gowron's offer.  He'd
tasted blood wine a number of times.  It wasn't a favorite of his, but
he could drink it at special times like this.  Besides, someone needed
to accept the Klingon's offer, or it would be considered an insult under
Klingon customs.

Worf also said nothing.  It would have been an insult against Gowron for
Worf, a Klingon, to turn down the offer of blood wine from the head of
the Klingon High Council.

"Bah!" Gowron said, snorting at the humans around him.  "Only Riker
among you will drink with me.  Such weakness.  It is no wonder we
disagree at the table."

Jellico glared at Riker, but Riker only continued to
smile.  If the meetings weren't so important to relations between the
Federation and the Klingon Empire, he would have enjoyed baiting the
admiral even more.  But now Jellico's lack of understanding of Klingon
ways might just be another step toward a new war.

"My friend," Picard said to Gowron.  Picard leaned forward and turned to
face Gowron squarely.  "It's the differences between us that we must
learn to celebrate.  The talks are simply to-"

A loud shout and a smashing chair broke off what Picard was saying.
Riker instantly saw what was happening.  Near the bar a Klingon had
stood in anger, facing a group of Starfleet personnel at a neighboring
table.  Three other Klingons were also on their feet, and before anyone
could do anything, the area erupted in a fight.

Klingon warriors and Starfleet personnel tangled in a mass of twisting
color while Quark's normal customers backed away, their drinks held
aloft to keep them from spilling.

"Stop!" Quark's shout could be heard over the noise, but no one paid him
the slightest attention.

Riker jumped to his feet and Worf was right beside him.

Dozens of others around the bar also converged on the fight, as if
everyone knew that this fight had to be stopped instantly, for the sake
of the talks, if nothing else.

Riker waded into the fight, grabbed a Starfleet lieutenant and pulled
him roughly off a Klingon.  With
a twist Riker spun the lieutenant away into the hands of other waiting
Starfleet personnel.

Worf stepped in front of one Klingon and growled a warning, freezing the
Klingon in midpunch.

Riker stepped into the center and shouted, "Stop it!

Now!  That's an order!"

The last of the struggling stopped as the half-dozen combatants on each
side paused, all breathing hard. Almost as if by transporter Odo
appeared at Riker's side.

"Go to your tables or the brig," Riker said, "Your choice."

The crowd hesitated.

"We demand honor," one Klingon said.

"Another time." Worf growled in his face.  "This is not the place."

"Now!" Riker said, his voice firm.  He wasn't going to allow a stupid
bar fight jeopardize the important work of these meetings.

The Starfleet personnel stepped back and then a few of them turned back
to their table as the noise level of the bar came back up to a normal
dull roar.

The insulted Klingon glanced at Worf, then around at the table where
Gowron still sat, smiling.  "Bah," he said and spat on the floor.
"Humans have no honor to defend." He turned back to his table and sat
down, his back to Worf.

Riker, Odo, and Worf stood their ground until it was clear the
combatants were back to their drinking.

"I think I will stay here for the moment," Odo said,

glancing first one way at a table, then the other at the
Klingons.

Riker nodded.  "That would seem like a good idea."

"Who is going to pay for the damage?" Quark demanded, stepping up to Odo
and Riker while holding a broken chair.

"I'm sure," Odo said, "that your profits tonight will more than make up
for a broken chair."

"But-" Quark started to object, but Odo stopped him.

"I could shut this bar down if you'd like, to find the person who broke
the chair."

Quark glanced at the crowd around him, then at the broken chair.  "I
suppose," the Ferengi said, "I could write this up to the cost of doing
business."

"Exactly," Odo said.

Riker laughed, and turned to see Lieutenant Jadzia Dax standing behind
him.  Her smile made him feel almost like a young boy again.  He had
hoped that Dax would show up tonight, but hadn't found a way to ask her
at the conference today.

She stood almost tall enough to look him in the eye. Her hair was pulled
back, and like the other Starfleet personnel assigned to the station,
she wore a regulation jumpsuit instead of a standard uniform.  Riker
hoped that Starfleet command would eventually allthorize this design for
shipboard use.  As he caught himself admiring both the jumpsuit and its
occupant, he noted the smile on Dax's face went clear into her eyes.

"Commander," she said, nodding and continuing to smile.  "Nice job."

Riker shrugged and indicated that she should join him back at the table.
"I doubt it will be the last fight I break up this trip."

"I hope you're wrong about that," she whispered to him as they neared
the table.

Picard saw her coming and smiled, moving over so that she could pull a
chair up next to Riker.  As they sat down Gowron was talking, obviously
getting very frustrated with his Federation companions.

"Do you think we Klingons kill anything that stands in our way?" he
said, sweeping his arm in the direction of the fight Riker and Worf had
just broken up.  "You outsiders see only our fierceness, our love of
battle.  You do not see the tigh, the honor, that shapes our every act."

"In my observation," Jellico said, staring right back at Gowron,
"Klingons look for the slightest excuse to fight."

Gowron glared back for a moment before Picard broke the silence.
"Gentlemen, please.  We are here to find ways to better understand each
other's culture."

"My point, exactly, Captain," Gowron said.

,,Klingons are warriors.  We do not fight just to fight."

Gowron glared at Jellico, then turned back to face Picard.

"Admiral," Worf said, "Klingons fight for honor.

,The honor of the Empire.  The honor of family." Worf glanced at Gowron,
who nodded his approval, so
Worf turned back to the Admiral.  "Sir, honor is all we treasure."

"We also fight for honor," Admiral Jellico said, "but most times we do
not do so at the drop of a hat."

Gowron laughed, leaning back and letting the laugh break out over the
table and the crowded bar as if he'd just heard the funniest joke on the
station.

Riker knew what Gowron was laughing about.  To a Klingon, humans had no
honor.  Jellico's claiming otherwise was a true joke to Gowron.  And
from what Riker had seen in his time aboard Klingon ships, and in his
dealings with Klingons, including Worf, humans valued honor very little
in comparison with a Klingon warrior.

"I don't understand just what-" Jellico started to interrupt Gowron's
laugh when Gowron waved his hand for him to stop.

"Admiral," Gowron said, leaning forward and facing Jellico.  "Klingons
are good storytellers.  Have you heard such?"

"I have," Jellico said.

"Good," Gowron said.  "For I have a story that will give you
understanding of Klingon warriors.  I warn you, it is a long story.  But
I will tell it well."

Admiral Jellico glanced at Picard who nodded slightly.

"All right," Jellico said.  "Tell us your story."

Gowron smacked his hands down hard on the table. "Good." He took a long
drink of his blood wine and then motioned for Quark to bring him
another.

Then, eyeing his audience, he sat forward.

"This is a true story." He pulled out his knife and stuck it hard into
the tabletop.  "A warrior's knife," he said, indicating the weapon. "But
a Klingon is not born a warrior.  Being a warrior is something that must
be earned.  Before I earned this knife, I owned a ghojmell taj, a boy's
knife."

Gowron glanced around at his audience for a moment.  "This story is
about Pok, son of Torghn, my friend and ally.  A mere boy with a ghojmeh
taj.  I will tell you how Pok became a warrior."

Gowron glanced at the others around the table, then frowned.  "But this
will not do.  No.  Not at all.  To tell this story correctly, I need
someone who knows little of Klingons."

"Why?" Picard asked.

Gowron turned to Picard.  "To answer my questions.  This is a story of
decisions.  A warrior learns by such decisions.  And none of you will
suit my purpose. Do you have someone who might join us?"

Riker glanced around the crowded bar and his gaze came to rest on a
group of engineers from the Enterprise drinking in a far corner.
Lieutenant Barclay sat in the very corner, nodding to some conversation.
His tall, too-thin frame seemed almost to swim in his uniform.

"Sir," Riker said, turning to Picard.  "I think Lieutenant Barclay might
be a good choice."

Picard looked almost startled, then smiled, glaneing in Barclay's
direction.  "I think you might be right,

Number One." Picard glanced at Worf.  "Please ask him to join us."

Worf stood and moved across the bar as Quark sat a new glass of blood
wine on the table in front of Gowron.

"Ah," Gowron said.  "Keep them coming, Ferengi.

Telling a story is thirsty work."

Chapter Two

LiEuTENANT BARCLAY had been listening only halfheartedly to the
conversation among the other engineers at his table as they argued about
the best places to eat.  Ensign Sutter insisted the best place was a
cafe on Rigel, while Ensign Dem swore it was a five-star restaurant near
starfleet headquarters in San Francisco.  Barclay didn't much care.
Instead his mind was focused on a problem he and Chief Engineer Geordi
La Forge had been working on concerning a modification of the warp coil.
He'd offered the idea of a modification that would result in making the
coil 6 percent more effective.  Geordi had jumped at it.  If it worked,
Geordi would make sure he got the credit. And more importantly, maybe
Geordi would then listen to a few of his other suggestions.

Suddenly the conversation at the table stopped,

leaving what felt like a hole of silence in the noisy bar. Barclay
glanced around, but all eyes at the table were focused on a place over
his right shoulder.

"Lieutenant Barclay," a deep voice said.

Barclay spun around and looked up at Worf.  The big Klingon seemed to
tower above him and Barclay's first instinct was to duck.  But he
managed to just nod instead.

"The captain asked that you join him."

Worf indicated the table where Captain Picard sat with Riker, Dax,
Commander Sisko, Admiral Jellico, and the head of the Klingon High
Council, Gowron.

"B-b-but, why would hid-hid-he-" Under pressure his slammer always
seemed to get worse and this time was no exception.

"He is the captain," Worf said, his voice firm.

Barclay glanced at the frozen faces of the other engineers for help, but
it was clear that no help was coming.  Slowly he pushed back his chair
and stood. He felt as if he were going to be executed.  What could the
captain want from him?

Worf only nodded and led the way.

The crowd in the bar seemed to part in front of Worf like water in front
of a boat, and Barclay found himself staying close to the back of the
huge Klingon as if being pulled along in his wake.

"Ah, Mister Barclay," Picard said as they approached.  "I'm glad that
you could join us."

Barclay wanted to say, It seemed I didn't have a choice.  But he only
nodded and took the chair Riker had moved into position.

"So this is the Barclay who will help me tell my story," Gowron said,
leaning forward over the table to stare into Barclay's eyes.  Gowron
glanced at Riker. "Is he up for the task?" Then the leader of all
Klingons turned his intense gaze back on Barclay.

Barclay wanted to shout What story?  but instead just stared at Gowron.
He'd never seen the leader of the Klingon Empire up close before.  But
Barclay had imagined that if he ever got the chance, he'd be scared. And
right now he was terrified.  Gowron had as powerful a presence as Worf.
Maybe even more. And right now Gowron's blue eyes seemed to be cutting
through to his very soul.

Riker slapped Barclay on the back while laughing heartily.  "Of course
he is," Riker said.  "He's one of the smartest engineers we have on the
Enterprise."

Gowron continued to stare at him for a moment.

Then he asked, "What do you know of my people?"

Barclay swallowed, shrugged off the sting of Riker's slap on the back,
then shook his head.  "N-rmot much, sir."

Gowron sat back, laughing.  "He will be perfect."

Then suddenly, as if Barclay had made him angry, Gowron leaned forward,
pulled out the knife sticking in the table in front of him, and stuck it
back into the table in front of Barclay.  The knife vibrated for a
moment from the force.

"Do you know what this is?" Gowron asked, his voice roaring so much it
almost covered the rest of the noise in the bar.

Again Barclay forced himself to swallow, then said,

"A-a-a knife."

"A warrior's knife.  It is mine."

Barclay nodded and glanced at Riker who was smiling at him.  Riker
nodded, so Barclay turned back to Gowron who had leaned back and was
taking a drink from a large goblet, as if telling the truth about the
ownership of the knife was the most important event of the day.  For all
Barclay knew at this point, it might have been.

Gowron wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and sighed.  "My story
is about Pok, son of Torghn, my friend and ally."

Gowron sat back and settled into his story.

"There was a great party in the house of Seplch, Pok's house.  The large
building barely contained the rich smells of roasting TKnag beast.  The
table was full of dishes of food and most of the hundreds of guests had
arrived, filling the rooms with their laughter.

"Earlier that day, Pok, son of Torghn, brought down the largest TKnag
beast ever taken in chontay, the ritual hunt.  His naojej was sharp and
his bravery will be talked about for many generations to come.

"I attended the party as an honor to Pok, and to my ally, his father,
Torghn of the house of Seplch.  As I arrived, with my two guards
carrying my chanob gifts, Torghn was introducing his son to the guests.
Not wanting to disturb the moment, I stood in the doorway and listened.

"Torghn indicated the huge roasting TKnag hanging over the open pit in
the center of a large round table.  Two Klingon warriors pulled tender
meat from its sides and stuffed the meat into their mouths, letting the
juices drip down their faces to show their enjoyment.

"'Nothing tastes as good,' Torghn said, loud enough for all to hear, 'as
the beast killed in the chontay."

"He was right, and the crowd shouted their agreement, and after a moment
Torghn held up his hand for silence.  Then he turned to a tall, muscular
young man standing near the entrance to the room and said, 'Here is the
hunter himself.  Pok, come."

"Pok strode over and stood beside his father.  His expression, I could
tell from the door, was intent, yet happy.  I remember my own lop 'no
and how I felt.  A warrior never forgets that moment, that pride.

"'Here is the boy,' Torghn said, indicating Pok, 'whose naojej brought
down the largest TKnag beast ever taken on this planet.  I am proud to
call him son." "Torghn slapped Pok on the back as the crowd cheered.

"Then Torghn went on.  'Tomorrow, after the Rite of Ascension, I will be
prouder still to call him Warrior Son!'

"The crowd clearly agreed.  Having Pok for a son would be a great honor
for any warrior.

"Torghn raised his goblet.  'To my son, who has chosen to follow the
path of his grandfathers.  To Pok." "The shout 'Oapla'echoed through the
room along

with the sound of goblets smacking together.  At that moment I wished I
had a drink in my hand to toast my friend's son.  So I stepped forward
and spoke.  'It pleases me that I shall be here at my friend Torghn's
side to watch his son become a man."

"Torghn and Pok both turned to face me, and both smiled.  Smiles that
make even my cold heart warm just thinking about them.  I did not know
it, but that would be one of the last smiles I would ever see from my
friend.

"Torghn stepped up to me and we grasped arms.

"'Gowron!" Torghn said.  'Your presence does my

house honor."

"'May the house always deserve it,' I said.  'I have brought your son
the chanob gifts."

"My guards raised their arms showing the gifts to Torghn, who smiled and
bowed slightly.

"Then I turned to Pok and said, 'Honor me by taking them."'

Gowron glanced around the table and then focused his intense gaze on
Barclay.

Barclay felt at that moment as if running might have been the best
option.  But instead he stayed glued to his chair.

"Federation person Barclay," Gowron said.  "If you were Pok at that
moment, what would you have done?"

Barclay glanced at Riker, whose face showed no trace of emotion.  He
quickly scanned the others at the

table.  Only Admiral Jellico showed emotion, and it looked closer to
boredom than anything else.

"Come, Barclay," Gowron said, his voice firm. "Indecision is like a
disease with you Federation types.  You think too much.  There is a
Klingon saying. "Act and you shall have dinner.  Think and you shall be
dinner." You understand?  Now take action."

Barclay managed to swallow the lump in his throat enough to say, "I
w-w-would s-step toward you."

Gowron almost came out of his chair.  "My guards would kill you if I did
not stop them!  Fool!  Your action would be seen as a personal challenge
to me."

Gowron leaned across the table and touched the handle of his knife,
causing it to vibrate again.  "And trust me, human.  You would not want
to challenge me."

Barclay stopped his head from nodding and said, "I would step forward
and accept the presents."

A huge smile broke across Gowron's face.  "Now you are getting the idea.
Pok honored me by accepting and taking my presents.  If he had not done
so, it would have been a dishonor.  Understand?"

Barclay found himself again nodding harder than he needed to.

Gowron took another drink and sat back.  "Now, let me get back to my
story."

"Pok took my presents from my guard.  I must admit, with pride, that
they were almost more than the boy could carry.  But he managed as any
good son

would have done.

"'My house thanks you for what you have given us, Gowron,' Torghn said.

"I waved his comment away.  'l, above all others, know what you give up
for me.  For the Empire." "'When my ancestors conquered Taganika,'Torghn
said, 'and set up rule over the planets in this sector, they did so in
service to the Empire.  But now, the Empire's needs have changed, and we
must change with it."

"'Well spoken, Torghn,' I said to him.  'But others here on Taganika do
not see things as you do, my friend.  The ancient houses have ruled
these planets for many years, and it has brought them great wealth."
"'That is a truth,' Torghn said.

""They may not be as willing as you,' I said, 'to give up their power."

"'For the future of the Empire,' Torghn said, 'we will sacrifice the
planets our grandfathers conquered, and that will bring us great honor."

"Torghn took a step closer to me after saying that, and my guards moved
in his way.

"I pulled them away.  'Enough.  Do you think Torghn would allow me to
come to harm in his home?

I trust the house of Seplch to protect me.  Leave us." "My guards both
hesitated, as they should, then turned and moved to stand position near
the door.  No matter what my words, they would not be far from my side.

"I put my arm around Torghn's shoulder and we turned to face the room.
All of the guests had gone back to their conversations, and across the
room I saw

K'Tar, Torghn's wife and Pok's mother.  She was as beautiful as the
first time I laid eyes on her.

"Torghn and I were on a mission together, honoring the Empire.  The
mission is now of little importance, but during that time we met EcTar.
We both fell in love, but I had rank over Torghn.  She was mine if I
wanted.  But I knew Torghn's father had just died and he was returning
to his family home to take control of the ancient house.  I planned to
continue in space, fighting as a warrior for the Empire.  I had no place
for a woman.  So I let Torghn woo her.

"'Your wife looks well,' I said to Torghn.

"Torghn glanced across the room to where I was looking, and smiled.
'Yes.  Do you now regret that you did not take her as a wife?"

"I laughed softly.  'My friend, she has brought you great happiness. And
a son.  There is nothing to regret."

"Torghn and I turned and there stood Pok, still holding his presents.

"'What do you stand there for?" Torghn asked.  'Go put your presents
down.  Bring some food back with you.,

"As we watched, Pok moved along the long table of food and passed near
K'Tar.  But as he neared the table to place the presents, he tripped and
dropped them.

"K'Tar turned to Pok with an annoyed expression and both Torghn and I
both managed to restrain our laughter.

"But then from a side door stepped Vok.  Vok, my

enemy.  Torghn's hated neighbor.  I always thought he seemed more
Romulan in his honorless existence.

"Vok stepped forward and stood over Pok.  'It is hard to believe one so
clumsy and slow is capable of hunting TKnag."

"Torghn started to move forward, but I stopped him with a touch to his
arm.  This was not his fight at the moment.  But it seemed K'Tar thought
it was hers.

"'My son saves his skills for the hunting of beasts,' she said.  Then
glaring at him she added, 'and enemies."

"Vok laughed.  'Our houses have stood door-to-door for generations. Must
we continue to be enemies?" He moved toward K'Tar and made a motion to
stroke her face.

"She growled at him, and then swifter than most warriors she drew out a
knife and twisted his arm behind his back, holding the knife to his
throat.  Then, mimicking his words, she said, 'It is hard to believe one
so stupid and weak is capable of running a Klingon house."

"Vok again laughed, seemingly not bothered by the knife at his throat.
'Why, K'Tar.  Flirting at your age. What will Torghn say?"

"Again I held Torghn's arm as she released Vok. Then speaking to Pok,
but looking directly into Vok's face, she said, 'Throw this veQ out."

"Pok stood and moved toward Vok, reaching for the unwanted guest.

"'bIyem'a'!'Vok said.

"Pok stopped short of grabbing Vok, but from

where Torghn and I stood we could tell he wanted very much to kill the
man.  And I had no doubt he might have been able to do just that.  He
was such a strong young boy.

""The celebration,' Vok said, 'was declared a lop'no.  You have invited
the spirits of all our Klingon ancestors.  Tradition dictates that all
are welcome to the lop 'no.  Even ancient rivals.  Even me, K'Tar."
:"Chut Ouj,'K'Tar said.

' 'Lug ratlh,'Pok said, almost spitting his words at Vok."

Gowron glanced around at his audience in the crowded bar, then took
another long swallow before facing Barclay.

Barclay had been afraid this moment was coming. He was starting to
understand what his role in this story was to be.  Gowron couldn't make
fools of Commander Riker or Captain Picard or Commander Sisko or Admiral
Jellico.  And Lieutenant Worf knew the answers to Gowron's questions. So
to tell his story, Gowron needed someone to run through the
possibilities, to make his points to the others.

And Barclay was the unlucky one.  Why hadn't he stayed back on the
Enterprise?  This never would have happened.

"WelL Barclay?" Gowron said, leaning forward.

"Speak.  If you were young Pok, what would you do?"

Barclay shook his head side to side.  "I-I don't know," he said.  "I-
I-I don't unders-s-stand Klingon."

"Bah," Gowron said, dismissing Barclay's attempt

to escape the question.  "You don't need to understand our language to
understand us as a people.  Now answer."

"I- I-I would turn to K'Tar," Barclay said, his words rushing out.

"And challenge her?  Your own mother?" Gowron broke down into hard
laughter not shared by the others at the table.  Finally Gowron looked
up at Barclay.  "Pok is still a boy until the Rite of Ascension. He must
do what his mother asks without question until then.  Guess again,
human."

Barclay glanced at Riker who looked almost amused.  "Pok sh-sh-should
throw out the enemy."

Gowron again laughed, and this time Worf snorted his disgust.

"So you think Pok, only a boy, should go against generations of
tradition, dishonor his ancestors by ignoring the lop 'no?"

Barclay shook his head.  "Pok should s-s-step back."

"Now you have it," Gowron said, lifting his glass and saluting Barclay
in very much a mocking fashion.

"It seems it is getting late," Admiral Jellico said.

"Ah, Admiral, I warned you my story was a long one.  I have not even
reached the death of my good friend."

Picard leaned forward.  "Gowron, would it be possible to continue this
story tomorrow, after the meetings?  I think we can all learn from your
tale."

Gowron nodded.  "As always, Picard, you speak wisely.  Tomorrow it is,
then."

They all stood.

Barclay watched as they started to leave the table. He almost began to
think he'd escaped when Gowron turned to him.

"Barclay.  Tomorrow you learn how a Klingon boy becomes a warrior."

Picard and Riker both smiled as Barclay nodded.  It didn't look as if
there was any escaping this story for him.  He was trapped.

Gowron slapped Barclay hard on the back, in the same place where Riker
had slapped him.  He staggered forward a step.

"Do not worry, Federation engineer," Gowron said.  "Knowledge will not
harm you this time."

Barclay only nodded, biting his lip against the intense stinging on his
back.  The knowledge might not hurt him, but the comforting might kill
him.

Chapter Three

COMMANDER RIKER MOTIONED for Dax to wait for him a moment, then watched
until Picard, Sisko, Barclay, Gowron, and Jellico were at the entrance
to Quark's.

"I thought they'd never leave," he said, turning I, to face Dax.  "I was
hoping we could have a _mtcap." He indicated the now empty table
littered with glasses and mugs.

She laughed.  "With pleasure, Commander."

Riker felt his heart race slightly.  He'd been hoping for years for some
opportunity to spend time with Dax.  It looked as if these long talks
with the Klingons just might give him the opportunity, if Dax was
willing.  And so far she seemed to return his interest.

Riker scooted a chair out for her and then motioned for Rom to bring two
glasses of wine.  "I hope

Quark's best wine will do," he said as he sat down beside her.

"Very much so, Commander," she said, smiling at him.  "What's the
occasion?"

"Good company always requires good drink," he said.

Shelaughed.

"Didn't buy that, huh?" he asked, laughing with her.  He really enjoyed
her laugh and was glad she used it freely.

"Not for a moment."

Rom delivered the two glasses of wine and Riker waited until he had left
before he held his up in a toast.  "To a successful meeting."

Dax raised an eyebrow and smiled.  "To success."

They both drank, then Riker turned to face her.  "So what did you
honestly think of the meeting today?"

He watched her sip her wine and seem to ponder.  He needed her opinion,
because at this point he didn't completely trust his own.

"It didn't go weIL" she said, putting down her o' and facing him.  "I
think Gowron is intent on impit ing relations with the Federation, but I
don't know how long that will last.  And I think Admiral Jellico was the
worst person the Federation could have sent to head these meetings."

","(I why's that?"

She laughed.  "Oh, come on.  He hates Klingons.

That much is clear from his every action."

Riker nodded.  He'd felt the same way after today's meeting.  And so had
Captain Picard.  But at the

moment there didn't seem to be anything anyone could do about the
admiral.

"I'm afraid I agree," Riker said.  "But with the problems along the
Federation/Klingon border heating up, and the Cardassians playing both
sides of the fence, we need this meeting to work."

"Actually," Dax said, twisting her wineglass in her hand.  "I don't
think that's what is driving Gowron."

"So what is?"

Dax glanced around, then leaned in closer to Riker. "Gowron is barely
holding on to power inside the Empire.  There are many Klingons who wish
the Empire had never stopped their conquering ways and they want to
return to those old methods."

Riker shook his head.  "They'd never stand a chance against the
Federation.  Not now."

"'We know that," Dax said.  "And so does Gowron."

Riker nodded.  "So he needs the conference to help make relations with
the Federation stronger so that if he needs to go to war against, say,
the Cardassians, we might come in on his side.  Or at least stay
neutral."

Dax nodded.  "But there are those on both sides who don't want this
conference to work in any fashion at all.  In fact, the very existence
of the conference, whether anything comes of it or not, is bad for
many."' This time it was Riket's turn to lean in closer to Dax.  He
liked her soft smell and wished he was leaning in at that moment for a
different reason.  "We have information," he said, "that there will be a
Klingon disruption of the conference.  Possibly an attempt on Gowron's
life."

Dax looked him in the eye, not totally surprised but obviously taken
aback nonetheless.  "If Gowron is killed here, it might be taken as a
dishonor by the Federation against the Klingon Empire."

"Afraid so," Riker said.

"Have Odo and Commander Sisko been informed?"

Riker nodded.  "And security is everywhere.  See the two drunks at the
bar?"

Dax turned around to stare at the backs of two humanoids dressed in
raglike clothing, sitting at Quark's bar.  They looked like miners right
out of the Conway mines.  At the moment Quark was making a face at one
of them, as the humanoid seemed to be passing out in his drink.

She turned back to Riker.  "You're kidding.?"

He shook his head.  "We've got every area we can think of covered."

She glanced back at the two drunk miners and shook her head.  "Amazing."

As she downed the last of her wine Riker asked, "You ready for another?"

She shook her head no.  "But dinner tomorrow after the meeting would
sound good."

Riker could feel the smile straining his face.  "I'd love it.  Another
chance to talk."

She stood.  "Until tomorrow, then?"

He stood with her.  "Tomorrow."

Then he watched her as she left the bar.

"She's a hard one to not stare at, huh, Commander?" Quark said as he
bent over beside Riker and started clearing the empty glasses from the
table.

Riker laughed.  "Yeah, you could say that." He finished the last of his
wine, put the glass on Quark's

tray, and headed for a good night's sleep.

With the meeting, followed by dinner tomorrow, he

might need it.

Commander Sisko watched as Chancellor Gowron beamed back to his ship and
Captain Picard beamed back to the Enterprise.  Then Sisko turned to face
Ops.

The current shift seemed to be going normally, considering the extra
staff on duty.  With two Klingon Birds of Prey and the Enterprise
stationed off the station, all shifts needed extra help.  And by the
time the five days of this conference were finished, it would strain his
people to the limit.  And him, too.  Today's meetings had exhausted him.

Major Kira Nerys seemed to be the only staff member out of place, since
she wasn't scheduled for this shift.  She sat at the security console,
staring ahead.  He excused the detail that had accompanied them to Ops,
and moved her way.  She didn't hear him as he approached.

"Sleep might be a good idea," he said.

She started, then glanced up and smiled.  "Just making a few last-minute
checks on station security."

Sisko nodded.  He had the same worries she had. There was more than one
rumor about an assassination attempt.  And he didn't want it happening
on his station.

"Any changes?" he asked.

Kira turned and indicated the board in front of her. It showed the
positions of the thirty security personnel currently on duty.  That
didn't count Odo, who Sisko figured would be working every minute he
could over the next few days.

"All seems normal," she said.

"But-?" Sisko said.

She glanced up and smiled again.

"I could hear it in your voice," he said.  "Do you have anything?"

She shook her head and stared at the panel.  "Nothing concrete.  Just a
feeling.  A very bad feeling."

"So do I, Major," he said.  "So do l."

And for the next half hour the two of them went over the tightest
security measures ever placed on Deep Space Nine.

Chapter Four

QUARK'S BAR STILL SEEMED EMPTY compared with the previous evening.  It
was dinnertime and the day's meeting between the Klingons and the
Federation had only broken up a little more than an hour before.  The
bar wouldn't get crowded until later, well after the dinner hour.

Commander Riker and Lieutenant Dax had left the meeting together and sat
at a corner table, talking softly, laughing somewhat louder.  Quark had
served them his best dinner and wine and then, at Riker's pointed
suggestion, had left them alone.

Two tables of Klingons filled the center of the room and three of
Quark's regulars were at the bar.  The noise level was high, but not
enough to disturb conversation.

The Caxtonian trader Conpap strode into the bar and went directly to the
back table where he sat alone. The night before, Gowron and the others
had used the same table.  He'd picked it purposefully, knowing that this
evening the leader of the Empire might return to it.

"You know," Quark said, fanning his hand in front of his face as he
stood in front of the Caxtonian trader, "that bathing might be an idea
you should consider." Quark stepped back.  "There are people eating in
here."

Conpap just growled, then looked up at Quark and said, "Romulan ale.  I
am in a hurry."

Quark rolled his eyes and moved away, leaving the Caxtonian trader
alone.

Conpap's gaze darted around the room, noting each person.  Only three
Starfleet crew were in the room, and he also knew that one of the
customers at the bar was a security officer.  He studied all of their
movements, noting when they looked around and when they looked away.

After a minute Quark returned with his ale, slid it onto the table, and
quickly left.  Conpap pretended to drink, then placed the glass down.
With one hand in his thick coat pocket, he pulled out a small bomb and
pressed it firmly against the underside of the table.

It stuck there and no one seemed to notice.  His hand moved away from
the bomb no larger than the size of the base of his ale glass.  He knew
it had enough explosive to destroy this table and everyone at it.

He pretended to take another drink, then pushed

the glass to the center of the table and stood.  He let one hand slide
carefully into his pocket to the bomb's trigger, holding it like a
prized toy.  Later, when this table was again full and Gowron was
entertaining the Federation people, Conpap would come back to the bar
and, from a safe distance, set off the bomb.

And then he would be rich.  Very rich.

A foolproof plan.

Riker finished the last bite of his steak and pushed the plate toward
the edge of the table.  "I think Quark outdid himself this time." He
couldn't remember a meal that he'd enjoyed as much, both for taste and
for company.

Dax smiled.  "You didn't believe me when I told you Quark's had some of
the best food on the Promenade.  " She leaned forward and whispered,
"Just don't ask where he gets his recipes."

"Not a chance," he said, wiping his mouth and tossing his napkin onto
his empty plate.  He sipped his wine, letting the smooth tasteful his
mouth and accent the lingering memory of the steak.

"You seem peaceful," Dax said.

Riker laughed.  "Wonderful food and great company makes me relax."

She raised her glass in a toasting motion.  "I'll take that as a
compliment."

"As it was intended," he said.

Another sip of wine and he leaned forward.  "You think today's meeting
went as poorly as yesterday?"

Dax nodded, finishing the last of her Tautean salad

and pushing the plate aside.  "I can't imagine that anything will-" She
broke off her sentence and glanced up at something behind Riker.  She
had suddenly become very, very serious.

Riker turned around.  Behind him Odo stood squarely in the middle of the
entrance to Quark's. Four security personnel flanked him.

All four had their hands on their phasers.

Odo's gaze was across the bar and looked very intent.

Riker followed the gaze in the direction of a Caxtoman trader who was
just moving toward the door. The huge creature in dirty pants and a
ragged coat had just stepped away from the large table they had all sat
at last night.

The Yridian saw Odo and stopped cold.

Suddenly the huge Yridian looked like a trapped animal.  His posture
tensed, his eyes went wide.  Riker had seen that look more times than he
wanted to admit.

The trader glanced one way, then another, obviously looking for a way
out.  Finally he made up his mind and darted to the left, just as one of
the Klingon warriors at the center table pushed back his chair and
stood.

The Yridian, his attention focused on Odo and the guards, bumped
squarely into the Klingon from behind.

The Klingon spun, mostly on reflex, and pushed the trader backward into
the large table.

The trader went down hard.

The next instant an explosion shattered the room.

Riker was slammed back against the wall, his head banging against the
hard surface.

He felt the thud and then a flash of light and pain.

And then the world went black.

The next thing Riker knew, Dax was bending over him.

He blinked the dust out of his eyes and stared at her, forcing himself
to focus on her face until the spinning slowed.  She had a scratch
across her forehead and her hair was covered with dirt, but she looked
all right.

"What happened?" he managed to say.

She shook her head and glanced over her shoulder. "A bomb at the table
we were at last night.  It looks like it destroyed the back half of
Quark's."

"The trader?"

"Dead," she said.  "And possibly a few of the Klingons.  I couldn't
tell."

That wasn't going to help the conference.  He tried to move and pain
shot through his head, making Dax's face and the ceiling behind it spin
like a ship out of control.

"Go easy," she said, holding him firmly.  "You got a nasty bump on the
back of your head."

He relaxed.  Then he felt himself smiling through the pain.

"And just what's so funny?" Dax asked.

"I was hoping I would end up in your arms, but not this way."

She laughed and didn't answer.

But he could see the twinkle in her eye and suddenly his head felt much,
much better.

Chapter Five

RiKER sToPPED IN THE DooR to Quark's bar and stared. It was amazing to
Riker how fast a Ferengi, worried about losing profit, could clean up a
bar halfdestroyed by a bomb.

After the blast Riker had beamed directly back to the Enterprise to have
Dr.  Crusher look at his head wound.  She'd kept him in sickbay for an
hour, then released him.  By the time Riker had changed and gotten back
onto Deep Space Nine, Odo had done his investigation and Quark had
cleaned up his bar and opened for business.

It wasn't as crowded as last night, but getting close. Chancellor
Gowron, Captain Picard, Dax, and Admiral Jellico were already sitting at
a table against the back wall.  A dozen Klingon and Federation security

men stood around them, backs to the table, obviously on guard.

"How are you feeling, Number One?" Picard asked as Riker approached the
table.

Dax smiled at him and indicated that he take a chair beside her.  That
made him feel even better.

"The head isn't ringing anymore, and Dr.  Crusher said I will live if I
take it easy for a day."

"Good man," Gowron said, slapping the table so hard he rattled the
glasses and made two of the Federation guards flinch.  "Hate to lose a
Federation man who actually drinks blood wine like a Klingon warrior."

Picard laughed, but Admiral Jellico only snorted and sipped at his
water.  Beside him Dax lightly touched his arm to show she was glad he
was all right, then moved her hand away.

"So what happened?" Riker asked after he got seated, glancing over at
the area where the explosion had happened.  A black stain on the floor
was the only sign left of the incident, and Quark had placed a table
over it in an effort to pretend it hadn't happened.  No one was sitting
at that table.

"The Yridian planted a remote-controlled bomb on the underside of a
table," Dax said.  "When he was bumped, he must have triggered it.  Or
his failing against the table did the trick.  There wasn't enough left
of him to be sure."

"Any clues as to who was behind it?" Riker asked, glancing around.

Jellico and Picaed's faces both stayed purposefully

blank.  Gowron waved his hand in dismissal.  "I have enemies.  It is the
way of this position.  I would rather get back to my story from last
night.  Where is that Barclay?"

Picard tapped his comm badge.  "Picard to Enterprise."

"Go ahead, sir," Data's voice came back.

"Have Lieutenant Reginald Barclay report to Quark's bar on the station."

"He is already on his way, sir." Data said.

"Good.  Picard out."

"So he comes willingly." Gowron said.  "Good, I admire a man who faces
what he clearly does not like."

"Glad to see you feeling better, Commander," Quark said, moving in
behind Riker's left shoulder. The Ferengi slipped a glass of wine in
front of Riker. "On the house." Then, almost as if embarrassed by his
actions, he moved quickly away.

Dax laughed, staring after Quark.  "That's not something you see every
day."

"I'll bet not," Riker said.

"Ah," Gowron said.  "He is here.  Now we can start."

Riker glanced around to see Barclay and Commander Sisko enter the bar
and weave their way toward the table.  It took them only a moment to be
seated.

"Barclay," Gowron said, pulling out his knife and holding it.  "Do you
remember where we left off yesterday?"

Barclay glanced at the knife, then nervously nodded.  "Y-yes, S-sir.
Young Pok had just honored his mother's command to step back away from
Vok, hid-hid-his enemy."

Gowron beamed.  "Wonderful.  A smart student. You will go far, boy." He
leaned forward and jammed the knife into the table in front of Barclay.
It stuck there, quivering.

Barclay stared at it, his eyes wide.

Riker bet that Quark didn't much like his customers doing that to the
furniture, but it was Gowron, so what could he say?

"The task becomes more difficult with tonight's story," Gowron said. "So
listen closely and learn of the honor of a Klingon warrior."

"Remember, when I stopped my story I was standing with my friend Torghn.
His wife K'Tar had just told young Pok to back away from Vok, enemy of
the Torghn's house.  And no friend of mine, either.

"Vok half bowed to K'Tar.  'I knew you would not dishonor your House,'
he said.  'I accept your welcome."

"K'Tar snorted and almost spat at him.  'Vok, do not confuse tolerance
with welcome.  You may stay, but keep clear of my husband and Gowron. Do
not spoil the day with politics."

"Vok again bowed a slight, almost ironic bow.  'A pity,' he said, 'I did
not bring my wife.  T'Var could learn so much from you about Klingon
hospitality." "With that he turned and went into another room,

away from my sight.  K'Tar growled after him, then turned to young Pok
who now stood over the dropped presents.  'I will see to these.  Your
father asked you to get food for Gowron.  Now go."

"I noticed that the table was full of the best Klingon foods, as it
should have been in a house run by Torghn.  Gagh worms, Rokeg blood Pie,
heart of Targ, Bregit lung, and others.  It makes my mouth water just
thinking of such food.

"Young Pok hesitated a moment, then picked up a dish full of gagh, my
favorite.  I do not know how he had such knowledge.  But his choice
pleased me.

"I took the dish offered by the young boy and moved into the dining room
with Torghn.  Torghn's younger brother, Qua'lon bowed and welcomed me
and together we moved to a table.

"Young Pok hesitated, not certain if he should sit with the men or move
to the end of the room where the women and younger children were eating.

"I offered him a chair near his father.  'Sit."

"But for a moment the young boy hesitated, as he should have done at
such a moment.

"'Do not look as if you have tripped over a woman,' I said.  'Sit."

"'Yes,' Torghn said.  'Sit."

"'A woman?" Qua'lon said, laughing as Pok sat down.  'I doubt he knows
what to do with a woman." "Everyone laughed for a moment, then I said,
'Enough joking.  Soon one of us will go too far and find a ghojmeh taj
at our throats.  Open your chanob, boy."

"Torghn nodded to ECTar who went and retrieved the presents.  She first
handed Pok a large book, bound in a fine hide.  Pok took it, a puzzled
look on his face, and broke the seal.  Inside it contained a musical
score.

"'Do you not know what that is?" Qua'lon asked.

"ECTar laughed.  "The young are ignorant of their family's history."

"Qua'lon looked at me, a sad expression on his face.  Then he turned
back to young Pok.  "It is a score to Qul tuq.  Can it be you have never
heard the opera that tells the tale of our family's house?"

"Then Qua'lon began to sing, and for the next few minutes his wonderful
deep voice filled the house.

"When he finished he turned to Pok, who still looked a little puzzled.

"Qua'lon turned to his brother Torghn.  "The boy is ignorant."

"Torghn sighed.  "Perhaps I have spent too much time teaching him to
hunt, and not enough teaching him to sing."

"I waved the two brothers to silence and turned to Pok.  "The next. Open
another."

"Pok was handed a second present.  This one had my metal seal around it.
I had watched as that seal was placed on the box.

"Pok took out his knife and broke the seal with a flick of his wrist,
then put the knife on the table in front of him.  He pulled the lid off
the box and I watched as his face came alive with pleasure.  Carefully
he reached into the box and took out the Acta crystal.

"'That is as useful as latinum, young Pok,' I said.

"Torghn sat forward staring at the crystal, then looked up at me.  'My
friend,' he said.  "The crystal is bigger than-'

"Suddenly something else came out of the box in front of Pok.  Something
I had not put in that box.  The item was the size of a fat human cigar.
It lifted out of the box and hovered over the table."

Gowron looked around at his audience in the bar and smiled.  "Does
anyone imow what that object might have beent' Picard nodded.  "From
your description,"' he said, "it sounds like a Romi lan amssin probe."

Gowron slapped the table hard, smffi% "Very good, Captain.  It most ="y
was an assusin probe hovering right in front of the young boy, PoL"So
what happenedt' Admiral Jellico asked.  Riker glanced at lum, surprised.
It was the first time the admiral had seemed interested in Gowron's
story.

Gowron gave the admiral a stern loot "My friend Torglm yeered out,
"HoHwI'A hunter killer.  petad!"

Gowron turned to Barclay.  "Young sir, pretend you are Pok.  In front of
you hovers an assassin probe, moving, searching for its programmed
target.  You have a knife and the crystal in front of you.  What would
you do?"

Riker almost laughed out loud at Barclay's look of

panic.  It was clear he had no idea even what a Romulan assassin probe
was, let alone what Pok might be able to do to stop it.

"I- I-I think Pok should grab the knife," Barclay said.

Gowron laughed, then stared intently at Barclay. "You think you can
defend against a HoHwI'with a ghojmell taj?  Your knife against a
Romulan hunter killer probe?  No, you must stalk it as it stalks its
prey. Now, what would you do?"

Barclay looked directly at Gowron, then said, "I-I don't know what an
Acta crystal is.  Should I pick it?"

Gowron shook his head.  "A mere trinket.  Nothing of note when a Klingon
is about to die."

Barclay nodded.

Riker took pity on the lieutenant.  "Barclay," he said.  "A hunter
killer probe is programmed for a specific target.  Stopping it always
causes it to explode."

Barclay nodded and Riker could see the look of thanks in his eyes.  It
was clear Barclay hadn't gotten much sleep last night worrying about
this session.

Barclay turned back to Gowron.  "I would freeze in position until I saw
the probe's intended t-t-target."

Gowron nodded.  "Correct.  Freezing is an action."

He took a deep, long drink of his blood wine, then motioned for Quark to
bring him another before he settled back into his story.

"I have no idea how the probe was placed into my package for Pok.  But
it took only a moment before it became clear I was the target.  The
probe seemed to hover, moving back and forth until it stopped, aimed
directly at my heart.

"I was prepared to die.  And at that moment I expected to.

"The assassin probe suddenly started at me.  I moved to the left, but I
moved too slow.  However, my friend Torghn did not.  He leapt in front
of me, taking the probe into the center of his chest.

"He fell, faceup, on the table.

"My momentum tumbled me to the floor where my two guards covered me.  By
the time they let me up, Qua'lon had reached his brother's side and had
put his ear to Torghn's chest.

"After a moment he looked up at me and stood.  'He did not even see the
face of his enemy."'

Silence ruled the table at the back of Quark's bar as everyone stared at
Gowron.  He took a sip of his blood wine, his thoughts far away.

Riker glanced at Dax, then back at Gowron.

For the next minute no one interrupted the leader of the High Council's
private thoughts.

chapter six

PICARD GLANCED AT ADMIRAL JELLIco as Gowron sat in silence.  Jellico
seemed to be thinking.  Picard hoped so.  Jellico needed to understand
that Klingons had emotions, feelings, friendships, and honor.  Their
emotions might be expressed in different manners from humans, but they
were very much an honorable people.  The Federation would be stronger
having the Klingons as friends.  But it was Jellico's blindness to that
fact that was clearly the stopping point in the meetings.

Gowron understood Jellico's blind spot and was obviously staging this
story in the hope of accomplishing here in Quark's bar what he couldn't
get done in the official meetings.

And Picard would do everything in his power to help him.  And Picard had
no doubt that even Barclay

understood the importance of the story he was playing a part in.

Gowron sat forward.  "I will continue."

"Qua'lon, standing over his brother's body, did what any Klingon warrior
would do.  He demanded vengeance.

"'Do not let vengeance cloud your mind,' I told him.  "There is a ritual
to be performed.  Vengeance will wait for that."

"Qua'lon looked at me, the shock and pain clear. He growled very low,
then said, 'You are right.  I will-' "I interrupted him.  'No.  It is
not your place."

"At that moment we all turned to face Pok, the young boy who had just
lost his father."

"It was Pok's place, as Torghn's oldest son."

Gowron sat forward, looking at Barclay.  Picard didn't envy the young
lieutenant's position, facing the head of the Klingon High Council.
Picard had done so, and he knew the power of Gowron.  And right now all
that power was focused over the knife at Barclay.

"Do you understand," Gowron said, his voice low and mean, "what has
occurred?"

Barclay nodded but said nothing.

"Then what should young Pok do?  His father, dead on the table.  His
father's brother demanding vengeance.  I also stand there in the crowd
waiting for the young boy's decision.  Should Pok move toward me, toward
his uncle, or go to his dead father?"

Barclay glanced around the table, hoping for help. Picard made his face
stay blank.  He knew the right answer, because he knew YIingon rituals.
But Barclay would have no way of knowing.  Gowron was clearly testing
him for a reason.

"M-m-move toward you?" Barclay said.

Gowron shook his head no.  "I know the scene of death I have described
is shocking to you humans. But the cowardliness of this assassination
shocks even a Klingon's heart.  Do not be confused by this.  Approaching
me at that moment would be deemed a challenge and an accusation that I
was responsible for Torghn's death.  I would have had to kill young Pok
if he had done that."

Barclay visibly shuddered.  "Th-th-then I sh-shshould not pick Pok's
uncle, either?"

Gowron smiled.  "You are right.  You should not.  It would also be a
challenge.  Pok should go to his father's body for the death ritual."

Gowron took another drink and sat back, his voice level as if telling a
part of the story he would rather not have told.  Picard understood.
He'd witnessed one Klingon death ritual and he hoped he'd never go
through another.

"Young Pok moved toward the body of my dead friend.  Torghn's eyes were
closed and Pok leaned over his father.  With one hand Pok opened his
father's eyes.  Then, moving so that his nose almost touched his
father's, he looked into Torghn's eyes.

"Slowly, the young boy soon to be warrior let out a

low moan.  It grew in intensity and as it did so the rest of us joined
in.

"All of us.

"Men.

"Women.

"Children.

"We all moaned the loss of a great warrior until it became a great cry
to the skies.

"I moaned the loss of a good friend.  A friend of mine.  A friend of the
Empire.

"Then the loud death yell stopped.

"We stood in silence.  Torghn's arrival with the Black Fleet had been
announced.  There was nothing more we could do.  His soul had left his
body.

"I moved to Pok and pulled him away from his father's body.  Then I
pulled out the killer probe and studied it.  As I had expected. Romulan.
A coward's way to kill.

"'It would have killed me,' I told them, 'if Torghn had not taken the
full force of the probe." I said what all knew, but I wanted to be sure
my debt was clear.

"K'Tar touched her husband's hand, then turned to me.  The look in her
eyes would have stopped a charging beast.  'Was the seal on the present
broken?" "I placed the probe on the table, picked up the box. 'No,' I
said, studying it.  'Yet I sealed the chanob myself, days ago.  Long
before I left for Taganika."

"Qua'lon picked up the probe and studied it.  'A cowardly way to kill.
No Klingon would use such a method." With disgust he dropped the probe
back on the table and Vok picked it up.

"'I wish I could agree,' I said to Torghn's brother. 'But the days when
that was true are gone.  There are too many Klingons who would use such
methods today."

"I watched as Qua'lon's eyes narrowed.  Then he said, 'Vok!" He spun
around to face his neighbor.

"Vok still held the probe, but he had taken it apart. He glanced up at
Qua'lon.  'A clever device.  And so effective."

"'Vok!" Qua'lon said.  His voice had a level of firmness in it I had not
heard before from him.  'Your hatred of Gowron and my brother are well
known." "'True,' Vok said, not looking at me.  'I would weep for
neither.  But there is no proof that-'

"Qua'lon grabbed the disassembled probe from Vok's hands.  'You have
destroyed the proof." He tossed the remains of the probe on the table
next to Torghn's body.

"'What?" Vok said.  It was clear he did not understand Qua'lon's thirst
for vengeance.

"'Vok, you verengan HaDIball!'Qua'lon said.  He stepped toward Vok.  'I
shall have revenge on you and your house."

"Before Vok could defend himself, Qua'lon drew his knife and plunged it
into Vok's stomach, holding it there until the Klingon closed his
surprised eyes and died.

"Qua'lon pulled out his knife, letting Vok's body drop to the floor.
Then he turned and placed the bloody knife on the table in front of
young Pok.

"'This is the knife,' Qua'lon said to Pok, 'that

killed the man who killed your father.  I give it to you to show the
circle of vengeance is closed." "I leaned forward and picked up the
knife.

"Qua'lon turned to face me, clearly stunned.

"'I understand the passion of your actions, Qua'lon,' I said.  'I too
have killed for vengeance.  But the circle of vengeance is far from
closed." "Qua'lon stood in front of me, stunned.

"Finally he spoke.  'You saw yourself He tried to destroy the probe. Vok
condemned himself.  He killed my brother."

"'Yes, but think, Qua'lon,' I said.  'Vok is a small man from this
provincial world.  To place an assassin probe in my belongings would be
impossible for a single man.  The package was tampered with long before
it got here.  There were others involved.  Now that Vok is dead, we may
never know who they are."

"I could tell Qua'lon was clearly stunned at my words.  But he also
realized I spoke the truth.

"'I do not regret what I have done,' he said.  'But you are right. There
are others involved.  The circle is not closed."

"I turned away from Qua'lon and moved to a place beside the body of my
friend.  'I will swear an oath.  A blood oath.  To find all who are
responsible for the death of my friend."

"'I will join you,' Qua'lon said.

"I held up my hand for him to stop.  'No.  You must stay here.  Protect
the House of Seplch.  Vok's house may seek revenge of their own."

"'But-' Qua'lon started to protest, but I stopped him.

"'No.  I need allies here.  It will have to be another who joins me."

"I picked up Torghn's knife by the blade.  I closed my hand around it
hard until it cut through my palm and the blood felt wet between my
fingers.  Then I took the knife away and slapped my bloody hand down
hard on the chest of my dead friend.

"I held my hand there and looked around.  'Who will swear a blood oath
with me?"'

Gowron sat forward and pulled the knife out of the table in front of
Barclay.  He held it in his hand and asked, "Barclay?  It is time for
young Pok to make another choice."

Barclay nodded.  But before he could say anything, Admiral Jellico broke
in.

"You said the man Vok was killed for vengeance?

Was he ever proven guilty of a crime?"

Gowron laughed.  "Admiral, you jump ahead of my story.  But I can tell
you this.  Vok was later proven to be involved in the cowardly death of
Torghn."

Gowron turned back to Barclay.  "You have had time."

Barclay again glanced around and the simple glance angered Gowron.

"Bah," he said.  "Humans and their need to think before acting. Klingons
learn the opposite when they are children.  When your brother says, 'Do
this' then you do it, or you poise yourself to fight."

Gowron paused, then looked at Riker.  "If a woman bares her teeth at
you, you hold her off, or poise yourself to love." Gowron turned his
attention back to Barclay.  "Either way, the path is action.
Consequences are dealt with later."

"B-b-but action requires knowing," Barclay said.

"I- H don't even know Pok's choices of action."

Gowron laughed.  "Two choices, Barclay of Starfleet.  Swear or do not
swear the blood oath."

"H-hid-he would swear."

"And that he did do," Gowron said.

"I felt pride in young Pok at that time.  He took his father's knife,
cut his palm, and placed his bloodied hand on mine on his father's
chest.

"His grip was firm.  His hand hard.  Not that of a child's.

"With me he repeated the words.

"'I swear on the river of blood in my veins.  Vengeance on those who
killed my friend, my father, Torghn!  Quapla!'

"All the others around us shouted 'Quapla!'

"And the oath was sworn.

"Then Qua'lon stepped forward.  'Wait,' he said. 'Pok has yet to
complete the Second Rite of Ascension.  In the eyes of the nugh tlhegh,
he is still a boy. Would you have him seek vengeance before he has
become a man?" "'No, Qua'lon,' I said.  'I will not take a boy on a
man's voyage.  Tonight we will complete the Rite of

Ascension.  Then we will seek out those who killed your brother."'

Picard watched as Gowron stopped his story and took a long drink of
blood wine.  Admiral Jellico seemed interested at one moment and
disgusted the next.

Picard found it all fascinating, not only for Gowron's story but for the
fact that he was telling it here, at this conference.

Chapter Seven

THE LIGHTS ON THE PANELs were the only light on the bridge of the Bird
of Prey.  It hung in space over Qu'nos the homeworld of the Empire,
waiting.  Ten other ships waited with it.

Waited for news of Gowron's death.

The wait had lasted for days and the humor had left the ships.

The communications officer turned from his panel to face the command
chair.  A woman sat there. Another stood at her side.  They were both
dressed as Klingon warriors.  Knives hung from their belts. Knives that
had known blood.

"There is a message coming in," the officer said. "Coded Deep Space."

The woman in the command chair sprang to her

feet.  "The moment is here," she said, moving around to stand above the
communication panel.

"Do not be so hasty, B'Etor," the other woman said, also moving to the
panel.  "We do not know the nature of the news."

"I trust dRacLa, son of Vok," Lursa, of the House of Duras, said.  "His
hatred for Gowron is as sharp as mine."

"The message!" B'Etor demanded of the warrior at the panel.

He turned slightly, his shoulders almost showing fear for what he must
say.  "Gowron lives.  dRacLa says the trader he hired failed in the
task.  He personally will try again."

B'Etor turned and smashed her fist into the pillar.

Lursa stood, staring at the main screen showing the homeworld below,
obviously thinking.  She and her sister were so close to taking control
of the High Council.  Only Gowron and his supporters stood in their way.
He had to be removed.

Assassinated.

There was no other way.

And assassinated while meeting with Starfleet would only help the House
of Duras.

After a moment she moved back to the command chair.  "Contact the BotKa.
Have it come with us.  The other ships are to remain here."

She again glanced up at the homeworld.

"Sister," B'Etor said, moving to the side of the command chair.  "What
are we doing?"

"I am tired of waiting for others to do our work."

"As am I.  " B'Etor said.  We go to Deep Space Nine?"

"Yes, we go to the Federations," she said, staring out at the world
below.  "I have a plan."

All B'Etor said was, "Good."

Riker watched as Gowron took a long drink of his blood wine, then
smacked his lips together.  There seemed to be more of the story left to
tell tonight. Even the admiral didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave.
Around them the bar had filled with customers laughing and drinking. The
Dabo table seemed also to have a lively game going and Riker wished he
had the time to try it.  But there was no way he would miss any part of
Gowron's story.

"Admiral," Gowron asked, "have you attended a Klingon ritual?"

Jellico shook his head no.  "I have not."

"Pity," Gowron said.  "Captain Picard would tell you they are full of
richness.  Our rituals come down to us through centuries of tradition.
They still serve us well."

Picard nodded in agreement.

The admiral said, "I can understand that."

"Good," Gowron said, smacking his wine goblet down hard on the table and
looking at Barclay. "Young Pok had a very important ritual to go through
after his blood oath.  As I tell the story I will not bother to ask you
for decisions.  Only a Klingon would know the answers."

Riker laughed as Barclay breathed an audible sigh of relief.

Gowron smiled at Barclay.  "For a human you do well.  Do not worry.
There will be more questions later."

This time everyone laughed as Gowron sat back and took up his story.

"A ring of stones framed the ritual chamber.  A fire burned high in the
middle of the room on a stong hearth, its flickering yellow fire the
only light.  On the walls hung Klingon weapons.  Warriors' weapons.  The
night air sharpened the senses.  A special evening. There was no doubt.

"Four Klingon warriors held pain sticks.  Three were Pok's uncles.  One
from my ship.  They stood two by two, forming an aisle to the flame.

"Young Pok entered the ring of stones and Qua'lon and I went to greet
him, stopping two paces short of him.  He was dressed as a warrior that
night.  His confidence gave him the courage to do so before the
ceremony.  I honored him for that.

"'Are you ready, Pok, son of Torghn?" Qua'lon asked.  'Do you wish to
take your place among the great warriors of your house?  Argan, son of
T'lak. Seegath, son of Seeth.  Janar, son of Seegath, Torghn, son of
Kapok.  If so, step forward."

:,Pok took one large step toward Qua'lon.

,:Qua'lon smiled, as did I.

'Not every man has the courage to become a warrior,' Qua'lon said,
continuing the ritual.  'Not every man can make the voyage through the
River of

Blood even after he chooses to try.  Will you make this voyage, Pok, son
of Torghn?"

"Pok stepped forward again.  He now stood face-to-face with Qua'lon.

"'You have chosen,' I said.

"The four warriors in the gauntlet snapped their pain sticks as a sign
of honor.

" Qua'lon leaned forward, speaking to Pok in a fatherly fashion.  "The
night before your father's Rite of Ascension I lay awake, but Torghn
slept soundly.  In the morning I asked him how he had been able to sleep
so well.  He said, "My fathers and fathers before me have traveled the
River of Pain.  I know that the courage is in my blood, and I am not
afraid."' 'Come,' I said to Qua'lon.  'It is time." "Qua'lon and I
picked up our pain sticks and moved to our positions across from each
other at the end of the gauntlet.  Now Pok faced a line of six Klingon
warriors, three on each side.

"'Show us your heart,' Qua'lon said to Pok.  'Today you are a warrior."

" Pok squared his shoulders and stepped between the first two warriors,
never taking his eyes from the fire in front of him.

" The warriors on both sides of him used their pain sticks to shock and
beat him.  For a moment young Pok stumbled backward and I feared for
him.  But then he slammed back at their attack, kicking and fighting
them until he had moved to the safe area before the next two warriors.

"Across from me Qua'lon nodded his approval.  I

agreed.  Pok had done well so far.  He had fought back against the pain.

"The young Klingon took a deep breath and stepped between the next two
warriors.  They were even more savage than the first, as was their duty.
They jabbed him with the sticks, kicked him, smashed him with their
fists.

"But Pok fought back, deflecting their blows, moving with others.  He
stepped past them and they bowed in honor to his courage.

"Now he faced only Qua'lon and myself

" I could see the determination in his eyes.  He never looked at us,
only at the fire in front of him.

p ", The battle is yours!" Qua'lon shouted.  'Travel the iver of Pain."

"Pok stepped between us and stopped.  Qua'lon and I both took our pain
sticks and pressed them against Pok, holding them against him.

"He trembled with the pain, but kept his feet.

"We pressed harder.

"He remained standing, his eyes focused on the fire.

"Finally Qua'lon said, 'Pok, when you die, you will die a warrior, and
join the Black Fleet, where you will fight and die forever."

"Qua'lon and I both pulled our pain sticks away and bowed to him in
honor of his achievement.  Pok took the last step through and stopped,
facing the fire.

"His knees faltered and he went to the ground on them.  But his gaze
never left the fire in front of him. His back never bent.

"I stepped between him and the fire and said, 'It is finished.  You have
done well, Pok."

"He looked up and saw me, then smiled.  Beside me his mother rushed in
and helped him back to his feet.

"'In one day's time,' K'Tar said, 'the House of Siplch has lost one
warrior and gained another.  You do us honor, Pok."

"She bowed her head slightly, showing Pok his new status as the head of
the house.

"Pok turned to me.

"'I see it in your eyes,' I said.  'One who has traveled the River of
Pain.  Others will see it too, and they will know that you have chosen
the way of a warrior.  And they will be afraid.  That, too, is a
weapon."

"Pok nodded his thank-you and leaned against his mother.  I knew I had a
strong new ally to replace Torghn.

"As we stood in the ritual chamber, giving young Pok a moment to recover
his strength, one of the servants rushed in and whispered in Qua'lon's
ear.  He immediately turned to me.  'Gowron, your men have finished
analyzing the probe."

"'Come,' I said.  'Let us see what they have found for us."

"We all moved inside and gathered around the dining room table.  Tellot,
my best science officer, sat at the table, the probe in parts in front
of her.

""The probe,' she said, 'was most likely rfianufactured in the Soltaris
System, within Romulancontrolled space.  The probes are illegal in
almost all

known sectors.  Efficient.  Deadly accurate, but difficult to program
correctly, and even more difficult to come by."

"'Unless you are a Romulan living in the Soltaris System,' K'Tar said.

"Tellot shook her head no.  'Even then.  The materials for this one
alone would bankrupt a small house." "Qua'lon turned to me.  'Gowron. Do
you think there are Romulans involved?"

"'No,' I said.  "The Romulan want my defeat, not my death." I turned to
K'Tar and the rest in the room. 'Many things are difficult to come by,
but nothing is impossible if you know where to look.  I have not
traveled through the dark reaches of space without learning where the
dishonorable wretches do their dealings."

"'Yes,' K'Tar said, 'and you have brought the fruits of their
dishonorable hatred into this house."

"I stared at her.  'Do you blame me, K'Tar, for your husband's death?"

"'No.  But I entrust you with my son's life.  Do not treat it
carelessly.  I too, can swear a mother's blood oath.  You would not want
that."

"'No, I would not."

"I held her gaze for a moment, then turned away. We understood each
other.  We always had.

"I walked over to Pok.  'Do not come because others want you to.  You
must know your own mind.  Will you come?"

""The boy has no choice,' K'Tar said.  'I have told

him the story of Kolan and Dula.  Kolan let his father's death go
unavenged.  No one would marry him.  He died without sons.  His house
became bankrupt.  His name disappeared with the wind.  Death is only
death.  My son will go." "'Yes,' Qua'lon said.  'He will go."

"Qua'lon turned to Pok.  'If you die for yourself, for your family, I
shall have an opera written, just to tell the tale of your courage.  Men
and woman will sing the name Pok, torghen puqlod."

" I laughed at them, and turned back to Pok.  'Your thoughts.  Your own
mind."

"' I have sworn a blood oath,' Pok said.  'i will travel after the
murderers of my father."

"I nodded.  'Have your things beamed to my ship. But do not take much. A
farmer's treasures are a warrior's burdens."

"Tellot stepped forward.  'Gowron, if we take the BortaS, the ship will
be recognized long before we arrive.  They will know that Gowron, head
of the Klingon High Council, is coming."

"She was right.

"Qua'lon stepped forward.  'Take my ship.  Take the Tagana.  Use it to
find my brother's killers."

" I nodded to him.  'Thank you, Qua'lon.  I am honored."

" I turned to Pok and my officers and guards.  'Come then.  We have
smelled the prey.  Now let us follow the trail."'

Gowron pushed back from the table and stood. "This seems a good place to
end this evening.  Tomorrow, if you are interested, I will ten of the
chase of my friend's murderers."

"I would like that," Captain Picard said.

:,So would I," Riker found himself saying.

'l, too," Admiral Jellico said, "would be honored."

Picard raised an eyebrow at the admiral's comment.

Gowron laughed.  "Then tomorrow it shall be, after dinner."

He turned, and with his guards flanking him, moved across the bar and
onto the Promenade.

Admiral Jellico, Captain Picard, Commander Sisko, and Lieutenant Barclay
followed, leaving Riker standing next to Dax.

"I'm sorry dinner was interrupted earlier," Riker said.

"So was I," Dax said, smiling at him.  "Maybe we should try again
tomorrow?"

Riker smiled back at her.  He had been hoping she would say that very
thing.  "With pleasure," he said. "It will give me something to look
forward to during the long hours of the meeting."

"Me too," she said, smiling at him.  "Me too."

And her words kept him smiling all the way back to the Enterprise.

Chapter Eight

PICARD FELT ANNOYED for the first time this trip.  He remained seated in
his chair as the rest of the attendees stood and left the large room.
The round table was littered with water glasses and a few scraps of
notepaper.  For the third day in a row, the meetings between the
Federation and the Klingon Empire had gone poorly.  Both sides claimed
they wanted to work with the other, yet there seemed to be no common
ground on which to base trust.  Tomorrow was scheduled to be the last
day, but at this point Picard doubted it would even be worth his time to
attend.  Nothing was going to be solved.

"Captain?" Commander Sisko said, moving to a place beside Picard's
chair.

Picard pushed his chair back and stood.  "Yes,

Commander," he said, doing his best to keep annoyance out of his voice.

"My chief of security thought it might be a good idea to include you in
his afternoon briefing." Then Sisko added quickly, "If you have the
time."

Picard nodded.  That made sense.  Worf had been informing him as to what
measures were being taken, but it would be good also to hear what
Commander Sisko's people were doing, especially after the attempt on all
their lives yesterday.

"I can make the time," Picard said, smiling at Sisko.  "Lead the way,
Commander."

Three minutes later he was seated in Odo's office, facing the
changeling.  Also there were Major Kira Nerys, Lieutenant Worf, and
Commander Sisko.  Worf and Kira remained standing.

Odo started in immediately.  "It seems likely that the person directly
behind the bombing was a Klingon named dRacLa.  He's been on the station
for three weeks, ostensibly working on an agricultural exchange."

"Has he been picked up?" Worf asked.

Odo shook his head.  "No.  Even though I witnessed a meeting between him
and the Caxtonian bomber, we do not yet have enough direct evidence to
hold him."

Worf nodded.  Picard could tell he clearly wasn't happy.

"Any information as to motive?" Picard said. "Whom he might be working
for?  Or if he is working for anyone?"

Odo shook his head no and consulted his padd. "dRacLa is from the
agricultural planet Taganika. He-"

Both Picard and Sisko said, "Taganika?" at the same time.

Startled, Odo looked up.

"Who was his father?" Picard asked.  He had a hunch he knew.

.  "Vok," Odo said after glancing at his notes. "DracLa, son of Vok."

Picard glanced at Sisko, who looked as shocked as Picard felt.  It
seemed Gowron's story might have a little more to do with the meetings
than Picard originally thought.

Riker and Dax left the meeting together, with Dax leading.  She said she
knew of a small cafe that was the farthest point from Quark's bar on the
Promenade. "We won't be bombed there," she had said, and Riker had found
himself laughing.

It had been some time since he had so enjoyed the company of a woman. Of
course, Dax was not a normal woman, with all the Trill lifetimes inside
her. But that made her all the more interesting.  And mysterious.

The restaurant turned out to be a very small Argainian cafd with a
wonderful wine selection.  Huge plants hung everywhere, and small
glow-pots on each table gave the entire place an intimate, yet outdoor
feeling.  Riker felt extremely comfortable by the time they were seated.

Conversation at first stayed mainly on the hopelessness of the meetings.
They both very much wanted them to work, but like the rest of the
attendees, they could come up with no place to really start.

They were halfway through the second course, a delicious Argainian soup,
when Riker's comm badge brought Captain Picard's voice to the table.
"All senior officers report to the conference room."

Riker tapped his comm badge.  "Understood."

Dax shook her head, but Riker could see she was laughing at the humor in
the situation.  Twice they had been unable to finish a dinner together.

"Seems I am wanted elsewhere," he said, taking her hand.  "Later in
Quark's for Gowron's story?"

"I'll save you a seat," she said.

He nodded, then with a quick turn left the restaurant.

Five minutes later he strolled into the conference room.  Captain Picard
stood near the front of the table behind his chair.  Counselor Deanna
Troi, Lieutenant Worf, Data, and Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge were
already seated.

"Sorry to pull you away from dinner, Number One," Picard said.

"No problem, sir," he said, and moved quickly around and took his chair
beside where the captain stood.  Beside him Deanna smiled at him with
one of "those" smiles and he hoped his face wasn't red.

It took only a minute for Picard to fill them in on

the discovery of the Klingon dRacLa's history and his presence on the
station.  Riker was completely shocked at the news.  He had been totally
engrossed in Gowron's story of young Pok, but he had had no idea that a
continuation of the story might be playing out as Gowron was telling it.

"At this point," Picard said, "we will not mention to Gowron that we
know of the family history of dRacLa.  Gowron and his security advisors
have been informed of dRacLa's presence on the station.  That is
enough."

Picard looked at Riker, the only other person in the room attending the
storytelling sessions, and Riker nodded his agreement.

"Now," Picard said, finally sitting down.  "Commander Sisko is putting
Deep Space Nine on alert status.  This ship will go to alert and stay
there until further notice."

Riker sat forward, puzzled.  "Percussion only.  Or do you expect
trouble?"

Picard smiled.  "I don't expect it, I know it's coming.  I just don't
know from which direction.  And to start, two Cardassian ships will be
arriving here within ten minutes.  We do not know their mission or their
intentions."

"Cardassian?" La Forge said.  "They hate

Klingons."

"And the Federation," Riker said, starting to understand where the
captain was heading.

"Exactly," Picard said.  "Disrupting these meetings

benefits any number of races, as well as factions inside the Klingon
Empire.  The Cardassians would profit greatly from a Federation/Klingon
war."

"But I understand, sir," Data said, "that the meetings are not going
well.  Why disrupt a failed meeting?"

"Just the simple fact that the meeting is occurring is a bad sign for
those seeking power in other ways, Data," Riker said.

Picard nodded.  "Even if the meeting fails to come to any agreements, we
need to guarantee it continues the full five days."

Everyone nodded and Picard stood.  "Dismissed."

Riker sat for a moment longer, thinking, as the others filed out. Gowron
must have known that dRacLa was on the station when he arrived.  What
was he trying to tell them with his story?  Only Gowron knew.  The rest
would find out as the story progressed.

"Crafty," Riker said to himself as he stood.  "Very crafty."

Chapter Nine

MAJOR KIRA STOOD next to Commander Sisko and watched on the Ops main
viewscreen as the two Cardassian ships took positions a distance away.
The Enterprise was off the port side of the station and Gowron's ships
were on the opposite side.  Kira felt surrounded and she had never liked
that feeling.

"Hail them," Sisko said.  His voice was firm, almost angry.  "And make
sure the Enterprise and the BortaS both are getting the transmission."

Kira knew how Sisko felt.  With the meetings going poorly, the last
thing the parties needed was the Cardassians poking their nose in.

"On screen," Ensign Hoffper said.

Gul Dukat's face filled the screen, and Kira snorted.  Of course it
would be him.  He seemed to

always know exactly when his presence would cause the most problems.

"What can I do for you, Dukat?" Sisko said, his deep rich voice full of
power.

"Why, Commander," Dukat said, smiling into the screen.  "Maybe I should
be asking what I can do for you?"

"I won't play games, Dukat."

Dukat sat forward and Kira had the extreme urge to fire a phaser blast
at the screen.  But she held her position and her stern face.

"The entire sector knows," Dukat said, "that meetings between the
Federation and the Klingon Empire are occurring on your fine station."

"It has not been kept a secret, Dukat," Sisko said.

"But the Klingon Birds of Prey headed your way have been," Dukat said.

Sisko stared at Dukat's smiling face.

Kira could feel the surprise building inside her.  If Dukat spoke the
truth, who knew what might be coming.

Sisko asked, "Is such an event your business, Dukat?"

"Commander," Dukat said.  "It is bad enough that the Federation controls
our station.  Having the Klingons own it would be intolerable.  I am
here to make sure that doesn't happen."

Sisko laughed, his voice full and deep.  "Dukat, you may stay in
position, wasting your time for as long as you might like.  But none of
your men will be allowed

on this station until the meetings between the Federation and the
Klingon Empire have ended."

"You're welcome," Dukat said, still smiling.

The screen went blank.

Kira turned to Sisko who stood for a moment staring at the blank screen.

"Do you think that he was telling the truth?" she asked.

Sisko shrugged.  "His own form of the truth, maybe. There may be extra
Klingon ships headed this way. Possibly Gowron's enemies."

Sisko glanced down at Kira.  "But Dukat's motives have me confused," he
said.  "They make no sense. And that is not normal for Dukat."

Kira felt a chill run down her spine.  On that, Sisko was exactly right.

Riker wasn't surprised that the large table against the back wall of
Quark's bar had been held open again for Gowron and those who listened
to his story.  Two Klingon guards and two Federation security officers
stood duty over the empty table in the crowed bar. Four men with weapons
guarding an empty table.  It would have looked humorous, if it hadn't
been so important.

All of the members of the table arrived at almost the same time.  After
the Cardassians surprise arrival, it was concluded by Captain Picard,
Commander Sisko, and Chancellor Gowron that they made no difference in
the evening.

Or in the meetings.

Gowron swore he knew of no other Klingon ships headed toward the
station, but agreed to look into it. Maybe, he had said, the Cardassians
were doing him a favor.  Either way he had also agreed to continue his
story.

Personally, Riker was glad that Gul Dukat's accusation of other Klingon
ships heading toward the station was ignored, at least for the time
being.  There was no extra preparation that could be done.  At least, no
reasonable ones that weren't already done.  Both the Enterprise and Deep
Space Nine were on alert status.  Gul Dukat clearly wanted to disrupt
the meetings, and there was no point in letting him.

Dax touched Riker's arm and smiled as they all took their seats.  Maybe
tomorrow they'd finally have a chance to finish a dinner.  He'd ask her
after Gowron finished his story.

Quark appeared at the table as Admiral Jellico finished taking his seat.
"Everyone drinking the same this evening?"

Gowron laughed and looked around the table. "Have any of you changed
your mind on my offer of blood wine?"

Picard, Sisko, and Jellico all shook their heads no.

"Bah," Gowron said.  "A good story is better told with blood wine.  You
do not know what you miss."

Riker had to admit that after two nights now of sipping the blood wine,
he was slowly developing more of a taste for it.  He still would never
order it on

his own, but it wasn't as bad as many in the Federation thought.

Quark scampered away as Gowron pulled out his knife and again stuck it
into the table in front of Lieutenant Barclay.  He focused his intense
blue eyes on Barclay.  "Young Pok is now aboard a ship I command."

Barclay nodded.  "I- I-I remember, sir."

Gowron smiled.  "Good.  When the wine comes, I will start.  There was
much for young Pok to learn."

Riker managed not to laugh at the terrified look on Barclay's face.

Quark and Rom both brought the round of drinks and Gowron took a long
draft, letting out a deep sigh when he was finished.  Then he took a
smaller drink, sat down his glass, and started into his story.

"Qua'lon's ship, the Tagana, did not compare to the BortaS in room and
speed.  But it was a sound ship.  My men worked quickly to prepare it
for the journey.

"The command chair filled the center of the Tagana's bridge.  There were
stations for five others.  I strode onto the bridge and knew at once it
would be a good ship.

"Young Pok followed me and we were greeted by Chaql, my weapons officer.

" 'DevwI,' she said.  "The Tagana is prepared.  We

await your orders."

"'Show me the weapons array,' I said.  Then I turned to young Pok. 'You.
Wait here."

"Chaql led me to a station on the lower level to the

left of my command chair.  There she showed me the weapons of the
Tagana.  Again, not as powerful as my flagship, but useful.

"Behind me I heard SvaD, one of my guards, turn to Pok.  'Come here,' he
ordered the young warrior.  I later learned he wanted Pok to hold a
panel while SvaD worked."

Gowron leaned across the table at Barclay.  "One of many places young
Pok is faced with a decision his first hours on my ship.  Barclay, what
should the young warrior do?"

Barclay seemed caught off guard with a question so early in the
evening's story.  But as Riker watched Barclay recovered quickly.
"H-hid-he should follow your order and wait."

Gowron roared his approval.  "Very good!  You are starting to understand
Klingon ways.  On a Klingon ship there is no such thing as a casual
order.  Every order is obeyed.  If I say jump out an airlock, Pok will
jump out an airlock."

Barclay nodded and Riker could see little beads of sweat breaking out on
Barclay's forehead.

"Now," Gowron said, glancing at Captain Picard and smiling, then turning
back to Barclay.  "Attaining rank and positions on a Klingon ship will
shock you. Do you know how it is done?"

Barclay changed the motion of his head from up and down to side to side,
almost in one motion.

Gowron laughed.  "Then listen and I will tell you."

"With the Tagana ready, the guards left the bridge, leaving only five
Klingon warriors for the five stations.  And young Pok.  Three of my
men, two of Qua'lon's men.  An old Klingon, obviously trusted and
protected by Qua'lon, stood at the operations station.

"Qugh, my operations officer, strode up behind the old Klingon.

"'I will take this station now,' he said, in the manner of the formal
challenge of station.

"The old Klingon glanced at Qugh.  'Who are you that would take this
station from me?"

"'Who are you that you would stop me?"

"The two growled at each other, then the old Klingon turned his back on
Qugh and went to work at the station.

"Qugh grabbed the old man by the shoulder and spun him away, knocking
him to the floor.

"The old Klingon warrior had great speed.  He climbed back to his feet.
Growled.  He grabbed Qugh.

"The fight lasted only a moment.  The old Klingon was no match for my
officer.  Again he found himself on his back on the floor.

"Qugh turned and began work at his new station.

"The old Klingon climbed to his feet, bowed to me, and took up a new
position at the navigation console.

"I turned to Pok at that moment.  'Pok.  HighoS." "Then I moved his
attention from the fight to another matter.  'Do you wish to see your
home one last time before you leave?  Planet view!'

"A view of the planet Taganika quickly appeared on the main screen.  I
turned to Pok.

"He stared at it.

"'When I left my home,' I said, 'I was not much older than you.  It was
many years before I saw it again.  When I did return it was as a
warrior."

"Then I turned to young warrior Pok.  'No one stands around on a Klingon
ship.  Everything must have a use.  Even you, Pok.  Choose your post."
"I looked the young warrior right in the eye.  'But choose carefully.
Remember what you have seen."'

"Barclay!" Gowron said.  "Pok must choose.  Do so for him."

Riker saw that now Barclay really looked panicked. "I- I-I don't even
know his choices.  H-hid-how can I choose?"

"Bah," Gowron said, waving his hand.  "You are not listening.  I told
you there were five stations on the Tagana."

"D-(I-does Pok know any of the stations?" Barclay asked.

"Humans," Gowron said.  He spit on the floor. "Bah.  Think.  As captain,
I remove those who do not do their jobs.  Otherwise, I told you how
positions are chosen."

Riker could clearly see Barclay sweating now.  And there was nothing
Riker could do to help him.  Doing so would bring the wrath of Gowron
down on him, which was the last thing he wanted.

"I- l-I would chose to challenge the old Klingon."

Gowron stared at Barclay, his eyes blazing.  "Why?

F-xplain."

,,B-B-Because Pok was young.  He might be able to b-b-beat the old
Klingon."

Gowron slapped his hand down hard on the table, causing Barclay to jump
back and two of the guards to flinch.  "Right," he said.  "You can
think, human."

Gowron took a deep drink of his blood wine, then held it up in the air.
"Ferengi!  More blood wine."

He looked at Barclay.  "You could use some blood wine, also.  You are
thinking like a Klingon."

Barclay was not only thinking like a Klingon, he was sweating as if he
was working out in a gym.  But Riker could tell he was pleased with
Gowron's praise. And having a Klingon tell a human he was thinking like
a Klingon was high praise indeed.

Gowron glanced around the table, waiting for Quark to bring his wine.
"If Pok had chosen any of my crew, they would have easily rebuffed him."

Admiral Jellico nodded.  "Advancement is measured by physical skill, not
proficiency at a task."

Gowron snorted.  "Both, dear admiral.  A warrior must be able to fight
first.  Then I, as strongest, judge his ability to perform the task."
Gowron stared at Jellico.  "Only the best at both rise to the top."

Quark broke the silence.  "More wine." He banged the glass down in front
of Gowron.

Riker had managed to keep his eyes focused on

Dax's hands on the table in front of her, away from Jellico's gaze.  The
last thing he needed to do was laugh at an insulted admiral, no matter
how true the insult.

"Ah!" Gowron said after a long drink of wine. "Telling this story is
thirsty work." He looked at the sweating Barclay.  "And taking part also
seems to be thirsty work.  Ferengi!  Bring him a wine."

Quark glanced at Barclay who looked pained, but said nothing.

"Now, back to Pok," Gowron said.  "He must win a challenge."

"Pok moved to a position behind the old YIingon. He stood there, his
young shoulders firm.  His father would have been proud of him at that
moment.

"'T will take this station, now,' he said.

"The old Klingon turned.  'Who challenges me for my station?  Go away,
little nothing."

"The old Klingon turned his back on Pok.  Pok grabbed the old warrior's
shoulder and spun him around, tossing him to the floor.  Apin, the old
Klingon surprised me by his speed.  He attacked young Pok, but Torghn
had taught the young warrior well.  Pok soon beat the old warrior to the
floor.

" This time the old warrior rose and left the bridge.

He would find another station below.

"I gave Pok my approval.  Then to my science officer

I said, "Teach him the station.  Teach him well."'

Gowron took a long drink of blood wine, glared at Barclay for a moment,
then went right back to telling his story.

"The next morning I sat in my command chair.  Pok had done well, but the
real first test of his navigation skills was at hand.

"'Approaching the Balka System,' my communications officer said.

"'Pok,' I said.  'Prepare for standard orbit." "Pok did as I ordered.

"'Slow to impulse."

"Again, Pok did as I had ordered.  The ship slowed. The planet Balka
appeared on the front screen.  A brown, ugly-looking rock.

"'Orbital track,' I ordered.

"Pok obeyed, taking the ship smoothly into orbit.  I felt pride.

"'Any other warships in the system?"

"My communications officer said, "Nothing in the system except a few
cargo ships and a small runner vessel."

"'Good,' I said.  'Decloak.  Drop shields and prepare to beam down to
the surface." I stood and moved toward the door.  As I passed the
navigation console I said, 'Pok.  You are with me.  These people trade
in assassination.  Death without honor.  Stay close."

"He followed my orders.  He was at my side when we beamed into the bar.

"There are places in this sector of the galaxy that

are not fit for human, Klingon, or even Cardassians. The BItuHpa was
such a place.  Drugged smoke clogged the air.  The smell of the unclean
filled the room.  Fifty varied species filled the room.  No other
Klingons.  I could see Pok did not like the place.

"A Bolian singer worked a keyboard.  Screeched out a tune.  A large
human bartender stared at us.  He had two armed Bolian thugs at both
doors.  Possibly other hidden armaments.  But I was not there for a
fight.

""There are no weapons allowed,' the bartender said, sneering at me.  It
was clear from his actions that he did not know who I was.  Nor did he
care.

"My guards and Pok closed in around me as the two thugs from the doors
moved toward us.

"'No weapons!" I said.  'What kind of a yln Tagh bar is this?"

"The bartender sneered at me.  His yellowed teeth dripped saliva like a
mad beast.  'I cater to a peaceloving clientele,' he said.  He laughed.
"They don't like violence.  If you really can't stand to part with your
weapons, there are plenty of other bars in the city that will be happy
to let you in armed.  If that's what you looking for."

"I growled at the two thugs, then turned back to the smiling bartender.
'You cannot expect us to give up our knives.  We are Klingons." I
stepped closer to him, even though his breath repulsed me.  'I give you
my word, no one will be harmed with them." ""The rule is no weapons,'
the bartender said.

"I stepped closer again.  'I repeat.  You cannot expect

us to give up our knives.  We are Klingons.  I have given

my word."

"The bartender thought for a moment.  With what brain I do not know.
Then he said, 'All right.  But the disrupters have to go."

"I glanced back at my guards and young Pok.  Then I nodded and they all
handed their disrupters to the two thugs.

"The bartender snorted at us and turned away.

""These nuchpu'fear the very weapons they sell." I turned to the guards.
'Mix yourself in among these people.  See what you can overhear.  And
try not to kill anyone."

"I moved to the bar.  Pok stayed close, as I had ordered.

"'Do not be concerned, Pok,' I told the young warrior.  'Many things
that do not look so, can become weapons."

"The bartender moved down the bar toward us.  His stench moved ahead of
him.  I had smelled better Caxtonian traders after long hauls.

"'Can I get you gentlemen something?" he said. Again he sneered and I
hoped for the chance to remove that offending look from his face
permanently.  'Or are you just here for the music?"

"'A drink,' I said.  'Pok.  We should take the time to sample the local
spirits."

"I turned to the bartender.  'Necti.  Pelet.  Ora."

"The bartender nodded and before a moment passed he had returned with
three bottles.  He sat

them on the bar and pointed at each in turn.  'ngaswl' wej.  Hivjemey."

"I looked at the ugly human bartender.  'You speak KJingon?"

"The bartender laughed, spraying us with his spit.  'I speak bartender."

"Thankfully, he moved away."

Gowron took a deep drink of his blood wine and looked around the table.
Riker could see that his audience was still with him.

"My voice needs a short rest," Gowron said.  "My glass needs
replenishing, too." He banged it on the table.  "Ferengi!  Another round
for my listeners."

Then Gowron turned to Barclay and stared at him over the knife.  "Do you
follow the story?"

Barclay nodded yes.

"Good." Gowron sat back, smiling.  "For soon Pok will be truly tested.
His life for a right decision."

Riker could hear Barclay swallow.  Even Captain Picard laughed with
Gowron this time.

All Riker could think was, Poor Mister Barclay.

Chapter Ten

THE BRIDGE OF THE DuRAs sisTERS' Bird of Prey was dark under cloak.
Lursa held her position in the command chair while B'Etor paced to her
left.  Only the click and hum of the ship broke the silence.

On the main screen the Federation Deep Space Nine station floated
against the field of black stars.  The Federation flagship Enterprise
held position near it, seeming to dominate all around it.  Gowron's ship
and a second Klingon Bird of Prey held an area of space on the opposite
side of the station.

The surprise had been the two Cardassian ships.

Lursa had not expected Cardassians.

B'Etor stopped beside her sister.  "I have no patience for this." Her
voice was low and firm.

"I know, sister." Lursa said.  "But we must wait.

Hoq is on the station now.  He will contact dRacLa.

We will learn Gowron's movements.  Until then we wait."

"This could take days."

"It might." Lursa remained staring at the two Cardassian ships holding
off the station.  For some reason their presence bothered her.  She was
willing to face the station.  The Enterprise.  Gowron's ships.  But
Cardassians she did not expect.

But now all they could do was wait, holding at longrange scan distance,
until their operatives gave them more information.  They had no other
choice.

Again B'Etor stopped her pacing and said, "I hate waiting."

And again Lursa said, "I know, sister."

Riker watched as Gowron glanced around at his audience.  The Klingon was
a good storyteller.  There was no doubt of that.  He even had Admiral
Jellico interested, which was more than the admiral seemed to be during
the official meetings.

"Do any of you know the drinks I talked of?"

Gowron asked.  "Pelat?  Ora?  Necti?"

Riker nodded.  "I have tasted Pelat.  Sweet, made from a fermented
Talaran berry, if I remember right."

"You remember right," Gowron said.  Then he smiled as mischievous a
smile as Riker had ever seen. "Commander.  You know your drinks, I see."

Riker smiled back at him, toasting him with a glass of blood wine.  "I
know how.  And have had much practice."

Gowron laughed and toasted Riker in return.  "Do you know of the
others?"

"No," Riker said.  The word Necti sounded familiar, but more as a poison
than a drink.

Gowron nodded.  "I am not surprised.  Ora has little kick.  A nasty
taste.  Not much worth the effort.  But one of my guards drank it, so I
ordered it.  Necti is another matter.  I drink it at times.  A Birani
beverage. They say it is made from reactant fluid distilled in the blood
of Necti warriors."

Gowron glanced at Admiral Jellico's shocked look, but made no comment.
"If I had a bottle of it here, I would let you smell it.  Like fresh
ground turned for a grave."

Gowron looked at Riker, who was nodding.  He had remembered correctly.
"Necti is a poison to humans."

"Correct, Commander," Gowron said.  "To all of the more delicate
species.  Ferengi.  Romulan.  Human. To a Klingon it burns going down,
and scars the stomach as well as the brain.  I have known of Klingons
who have died drinking it too fast."

Gowron smiled.  "It is an interesting drink.  And plays a part in Pok's
story."

"I could tell young Pok enjoyed his Pelat.  I sipped at the Necti.  Its
burn filled me while my guards mingled among the crowd.  The singer
finished her song and I yelled across the bar to her.  'You sing well."
"'Thank you,' she called back.  'Requests?"

"'Klingon opera?" I did not expect her to know any.

She appeared to be human.  But she surprised me. Without looking away
from me she started into tIhIngan jIH, a popular opera about the nature
of being KJingon.

"Pok and I sat and enjoyed it.  She finished and we cheered her, as did
my guards.  The rest of the bar joined in.

"I moved from my place at the bar, taking my drink.  Pok stayed at my
side.

"'Few humans understand the spirit of Klingon opera,' I told her.  'You
are a true artist."

"She smiled at me.  "The melodies are simple.  Quite repetitive.  The
difficulty is handling the tonality." "She brushed against my leg and I
responded back to her in a gentle manner, leading her on as I have seen
humans do to their women.

""The trick is,' she said, 'you must be harsh with it."

"'You understand Klingons well.  Sing it again."

"Others close by in the bar agreed.

"Again she sang the Klingon opera tIhIngan jIH.

"Again we cheered her performance.

"'We must show our appreciation,' I said loudly to Pok.

"'Really,' she said.  'That won't be necessary." She knew what I
intended.  But she had pleased me.  It was Klingon custom.

"I turned to Pok.  'Choose,' I told him."

Gowron smiled at Barclay who again looked startled at the sudden turn in
the story.  "Do you not understand?"

Barclay swallowed.  "I- H do not, sir."

Riker felt almost sorry for Barclay this time. Gowron was asking him to
fulfill a very little-known Klingon custom of showing appreciation for a
performance.  "Lieutenant," Riker said, leaning toward Barclay while
smiling at Gowron.  "Klingons show their appreciation of good art or
performance by smashing something.  Then paying for it.  Sort of
tipping, with an act in the middle."

Gowron continued to stare at Barclay as he first looked at Riker, then
back at the Klingon leader.

"Choose," Gowron said.  "Action.  The song was good.  What would Pok
choose?"

"A bar g-g-glass," Barclay said.

"Bah," Gowron said.  "I must not have described fully.  The song, the
opera by this human woman singer was superb.  A bar glass costs nothing.
Breaking it would have been an insult to her."

"A ch-chair?" Barclay asked.  Again he was sweating.

"Better," Gowron said.  "Much better.  What Pok actually chose."

"Pok pointed to the singer's chair.  My guard took it.  Smashed it into
small pieces.  The crowd yelled its approval.

"I turned to the singer.  'It is done.  We pay for what we destroy." I
offered her a bar of latinum.

"'Latinum?" She stared at the bar.  Did not take it.

"'If it is not acceptable to you,' I said.  I moved to put the bar back
into my pocket.

"'No.  No.  It is acceptable." She almost ripped the bar from my hand.
Then she turned it over, checking its weight and value.

"'Not enough?"l asked.  I knew it was far more than the value of her
simple chair.

"'More than enough,' she said.  Then she looked me in the eye.  'Is
there something more you wanted?" "'Information."

" 'I thought Klingons took information,' she said.  'I was not aware
that they paid for it."

"I stepped right up and looked into her face, sneering at her.  "The
latinum is for the chair.  The information you will give for free." She
did not back away, but I saw the flicker of fear cross her eyes.  I knew
I had her at that moment.

"'I am looking for a weapons dealer.  One who could get me something.
Something like this." I pulled out the Romulan assassins probe that
killed my friend.

"She recognized it for what it was.  She became nervous.  She stepped
away from me.  'I wouldn't know anything about that.  I only sing here."

"I stepped back up to her face.  'You are not blind. You see who makes
the deals.  Who sets up the meetings."

"The singer moved another step away from me, shaking her head.  I took
her by the arm, gripping her hard.

"Behind me, the bartender shouted, 'Stop him!' "I turned her around so
that I could see my two guards and Pok make very short work of the two

thugs.  I do not think any of my men even took a blow.

I know young Pok did not.

"The crowd in the bar seemed frozen.  Silence filled the place.  I
turned back to the singer.  'Now,' I said, growling in her face.  'Whom
do they come to see?"

"Many a Klingon warrior had backed down to my threats.  She was no
exception.  She pointed to the bartender.  'Meska.  He's the one who
arranges it all." "I tossed the singer aside, being careful not to hurt
her seriously.  A good singer of Klingon opera must always be given
appreciation.  I moved to the bartender.  He moved to get away, but I
easily stopped him.

"'You have information?" I said.

"'You see,' he said.  'This is why we don't allow weapons in here.  I
should have never let you keep your knives."

"'My guards did not use their knives,' I told him.  'I have kept my
word.  But as I told my young comrade, there are always weapons."

"Holding the bartender with one hand, I picked up the glass of Necti.  I
held it in front of the bartender's wide eyes.  'How often do you serve
Necti, bartender?

Have you ever tried it?"

"I moved to feed the bartender a sip of Necti.  He locked his mouth
shut.  Wouldn't drink.  I was not surprised.

"'No?" I said, pulling the glass away from his face.

"Then tell me what I want to know."

"He did not answer, so I tried again to give him just a sip.  He did not
let me.

"'Who brings the probes into this sector?"

"The bartender shook his head.  'I don't know.  I don't."

"I did not believe him.  I held the glass above his face and splashed a
little of the drink in his eyes.

"He screamed.  Then he called out, 'My eyes!  I can't see.  My eyes!'

"I lifted him into the air.  'Tell me now, bartender, before I pour the
whole bottle on you."

"'Shipments of weapons come through here all the time,' he said quickly.
I lowered him back to the floor. His hands worked at his eyes.

"'More,' I said.

:,He shook his head.  'I don't ask what they carry." "This shipment
would have come from the Soltaris System."

"The bartender tried to twist out of my grasp, but I held on and poured
the rest of the glass on him :'Apin he screamed.

"What ship?"

"Trying to rub the liquid off his face, he said, "The Toofa.  A Pakled
vessel."

"I was disgusted.  I hated Pakleds.  They were stupid beasts.  "'When?"

"'Sixteen hours,' he said.  'It left here sixteen hours ago headed back
to Soltaris."

"I continued to hold the bartender by the shirt. 'T'Rok!" I called out
to my guard.  'We return to the ship.  Pok!  The Necti."

"Pok did as I ordered and handed me the halfempty bottle of Necti.

"The bartender kept saying, 'No.  No.  No." Over

and over.  I held the bottle up for a moment, then tipped it up and
drank the rest of it.

"I let the bartender go and threw the bottle against the back wall.  'No
sense in wasting it, eh?" "I stepped to a position in front of Pok and
my two guards.  With a nod to the singer, I said, 'Now." And we returned
to the ship.  But now we had a lead.

Riker watched as Gowron rolled his empty glass across the table, then
shouted "Ferengi!  Wine!"

He looked at Barclay with a cold smile.  "The Ferengi does not know how
to keep his customers happy.  Maybe I should give him a taste of Necti?

What do you think, Barclay?"

At the shocked look in Barclay's eyes, Gowron sat back and laughed.

Chapter Eleven

NIBO HoQ GLANCED in both directions down the seemingly empty corridor,
then moved quickly along the row of doors.  His thin frame and flowing
green robe were in stark contrast to the dull, heavy feeling of the
corridor.  This area was part of the station's guest quarters and seemed
to be empty.  And he moved without a sound.

He'd booked a room for three nights in a similar section of the station,
giving the excuse to those in Ops that his ship needed slight repairs
before he could go on.  Since he was a Saurian merchant who had been on
the station numbers of times before, he was not questioned, even with
the Klingon/Federation meetings going on.

He glanced around.  His room was not in this area of the station, but if
stopped, he would claim he had

simply gotten lost while looking for his own room. This area of the
station did look almost the same as the area of his room.  So far he had
only seen two guards and they had not stopped him.

Hoq kept moving, searching for the door with the special mark.  He had
something to deliver.  Nibo Hoq dealt in much more than just the goods
that filled his cargo hold.  His most profitable item had always been
information and he was very good at getting it.  And getting paid highly
for selling it.

A faint gray mark caught his eye.  Nothing more than a scratch with a
hooked end near the upper corner of the door.  Yet he knew instantly it
was the signal he was looking for.

Glancing in both directions, he moved three doors farther down the hall
from the mark, then knocked lightly.  He was very careful to stay away
from the call button on the door.

He could hear a rustle faintly behind the door, then the door was pushed
open by hand, by a large Klingon warrior.  It did not automatically
open, otherwise movement would have shown up in the station's security
monitors.

Hoq nodded and slipped into the dark room while the Klingon pushed the
door closed.  Only a single candle burned in the center of the spartan
room.  A thin mat had been laid out on the floor in one corner. No other
signs of life, even though Hoq suspected the Klingon had been in the
room for most of four days.

"You have information?" the Klingon said, moving over and standing
across the candle from Hoq.  His

hard features and ridge lines in his face cast dark shadows on his
forehead.

"I have what you and your friends seek," Nibo Hoq said.  "Do you have my
price?"

The Klingon snorted, then reached into his vest and pulled out a packet.
He tossed it at Hoq, who caught it easily.  Hoq unwrapped it, checking
the amount.  It was what he had asked from Lursa.  More than enough to
make the trip profitable.

He put the package inside his cape and looked the Klingon directly in
the eye.  "Gowron beams back to his ship immediately after the meetings
break up, in late afternoon.  Then he comes back and drinks in Quark's
until fairly late, telling stories.  He is there now, as we speak."

The Klingon laughed.  "He always believed stories were important.  I see
he has not changed."

Hoq nodded, but said nothing.

"Go on," the Klingon said.

"He is officially a Federation guest," Hoq said.  "He is guarded well,
by both his men and the Federation. When the station's shields drop,
after the meetings, he is the first to beam to his ship."

The Klingon glowered at Hoq for a short time in the flickering
candlelight, then suddenly smiled.  "I understand."

Hoq bowed and moved back toward the door.  "I did not expect to have to
explain my information. Now, I am needed at my ship." He indicated the
door and that the Klingon should open it for him.

The Klingon moved to a position in front of the door, then turned to
Hoq.  "How do I know you will not sell your information about me."

Hoq laughed.  "One buyer per trip.  It is a rule that I find helps keep
me out of trouble.  And keeps my buyers returning for my services."

The Klingon nodded and turned back to face the door, as if he were about
to open it.  Instead he pulled out his knife, and with a quick turn,
buried it into Hog's stomach.

Nibo Hoq felt the suddenness of the thrust and the sudden loss of air
from his lungs.

He tried to pull away, but the Klingon held him close until Hoq could
feel the strength in his legs draining with his blood down his front.

He fought, but against the strength of the Klingon it did no good.

Finally he stopped struggling.

He knew he was going to die.

He looked into the cold black eyes of the Klingon. "You did not need to
do this."

The Klingon yanked the knife out and let Hoq fall to the floor.
"Information is a two-edged blade," the Klingon said, standing over him.
"I have no desire to be cut."

"You had my word," Nibo Hoq said, the sentence bubbling in his throat as
blood filled his lungs.

"Your word," the Klingon said.

The last thing Nibo Hoq ever heard was the Klingon laughing.

Gowron waited until all his audience's drinks were refilled.  Riker was
startled to find that this evening he had finished one full glass of
blood wine.  Gowron had insisted that Quark bring him another, and
secretly, Riker was glad he did.  Dax touched his hand and indicated the
empty glass with a smile.  She was half laughing at him.  He enjoyed
that.

Riker leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Gowron's stories make me
thirsty."

She laughed out loud but said nothing, because Gowron was about to
start.  But to Riker her laugh promised good moments together ahead.  He
just hoped the situation would allow them the moments. They were both
Starfleet officers.  Time had a way of disappearing for them.

Gowron finished a long drink of blood wine, sighed heavily, and then
with only a quick glance at the sweating Lieutenant Barclay, started
back into his story.

"I assumed it would not take our ship long to overtake the Pakled ship.
They are slow slugs at best.  I was right.

" 'Picking up a vessel within scanning range,' my communications
officer, Chaql, said, only three hours after we had left the bar.

""The Pakled ship?" I asked, spinning in my command chair so that I
could address Chaql directly.

"'Yes." "'Cloak the ship." "'Cloaking the ship,' Chaql said.

"The lights dimmed.  We were cloaked.

""The cargo hold is empty,' Chaql said.  'Ten humanoids, all Pakied."

"'Let me see this Pakled ship,' I ordered.  I turned back to the main
screen.  The ship appeared on the screen.

""They are slowing,' Chaql said.

"'qoH!'l was not happy.  'You did not engage the cloaking device fast
enough.  They have detected us." "'No, Devwl!" Chaql said.  "They have a
coolant leak.  If they do not power down, the warp engines will
overheat."

"Laughter broke over the bridge.  I, too, laughed.

"'HuH Pakled,' Chaql said.  "They do not fix their vessels.  They do not
even understand how.  A ship must be treated with honor.  They treat
theirs as so much garbage.  How can they do this?"

""They are Pakled,'I said.  It was enough to explain.

""They go to impulse,' ChaqI said.

"'Pok,' I ordered.  'Go to number two tactical station." Then I turned
to face Surgh, my best navigator.  He had stepped into Pok's position.
'Bring us out of warp!  I want to be right in the Pakled's face when we
engage the tractor beam."

"Surgh did as I told him.  The viewscreen in front of me changed to show
the Pakled ship.  It was an ugly thing.  More like a Ferengi cargo ship
than anything else.

"'We will make these Pakled tell us,' I said, 'who purchased the Romulan
hunter killer probe.  But they must be questioned with care.  Frighten a
Pakled too

much and I will never get the information.  At least not information
that will be of any use to us." "'Dead stop,' Surgh said.

"'Raise shields!  Decloak.  Pull them in with the tractor beam.  I want
us close, as close as we can get." "My orders were followed, and the
Pakled ship was drawn in close to the Tagana.

"'We are being hailed,' Chaql said.

"'Not a surprise,' I said.  'On screen." "The Pakled captain appeared
on-screen.  He had a round face, small black eyes sunk in his pink
flesh. His nose looked as if a warrior had pounded it flat with a fist.
Sweat seemed to coat his pale skin like a sickness.  He was frightened
and very nervous, as I had planned.

"'We do nothing wrong,' the captain said.  His voice almost squeaked,
like a comm system gone bad.  I always hated Pakled voices.  This
captain's voice was

no exception.

"'We are Pakled,' the captain went on.  'We are

honest traders.  Why do you hold us here?"

"'We need information,' I said.

"'I don't know anything,' the captain said.

"'No Pakled knows anything,' Chaql said behind

me.

" 'yltamehoH,'l said to Chaql.  Then I lowered my

voice to the Pakled captain.  'You are Pakled."

"'Yes.  We are Pakled,' the captain repeated.

""Then you have knowledge.  You are not stupid."

"'No.  We are not stupid."

""Then you will beam over and tell us what we need to know,' I said.

"'No!" The Pakled captain said.  'I am afraid.  I will not beam over."

"'Why?"

"'You are Klingon.  We are Pakled."

"'I do not understand you, Pakled."

"The captain nodded.  'It is difficult to understand." He looked very
seriously at me.  I managed not to laugh.

""Then,' I said, very seriously, 'you must come aboard our ship and
explain why you are afraid to come aboard."

"The round-faced Captain nodded.  'Yes.  I will do that.  I will beam
over and explain."

"'You are a good negotiator, captain,' I said.  Again I managed to keep
my smile hidden.  But that was not an easy task.

"The Pakled captain beamed a huge smile, showing me his stubby little
teeth.  'Yes.  We are Pakled." "I turned to Surgh.  'Go to the
transporter room.

Beam him here.  Pok, take the navigation station." "I waited until Pok
was in position, then said, 'Lower shields and release the tractor
beam."'

Gowron stared at Admiral Jellico.  "Admiral, you suggested yesterday
that my crew is not trained to do a job.  Only to fight."

"Well, I-" Admiral Jellico tried to object, but Gowron waived away the
obviously unprepared admiral's answer and turned to Barclay.

"Barclay," Gowron said.  "Do you know how to run a tactical station on a
Klingon Bird of Prey?"

Riker watched as Barclay shook his head quickly. "N-no, sir."

"So, if Pok did not know the difference between a tractor beam and a
cloaking device?  What would happen?"

Barclay again shook his head.

Gowron snarled at Barclay.  Then he said, "The ship would cloak.  And
then scare the Pakled captain. Right?"

This time, Barclay nodded yes.

"And a scared, stupid Pakled would try to get away. With a broken warp
coil.  Their ship would explode. We would get no information."

"I- I-I can s-s-see that, sir."

"Good," Gowron said.

"If Pok did not know the difference between shields and firing
disrupters?"

"He would destroy the P-p-pakled ship."

"Correct.  If tractor beam was still engaged and he fired the
disrupters?" Gowron stared at Barclay, clearly waiting for an answer.
Riker kniw the answer. And he knew Barclay did, too.

"S-s-sir," Barclay said.  "That would create a feedback loop that would
destroy your sh-ship."

Gowron smiled at Captain Picard.  "Captain.  You train your crew well."

"Thank you," Picard said, tipping his glass in a half-toast.  "I am
honored at the compliment."

Gowron turned to Admiral Jellico.  "If Pok was not

trained as well, would I risk my life?  The life of my ship?  Giving him
a post such as I did?"

Admiral Jellico swallowed hard.  "Obviously not."

Gowron nodded.  The admiral's answer was enough, it seemed, for Gowron.
Riker had really enjoyed watching Gowron take apart the admiral that
way.  He wasn't sure it would help the last days of the meetings, but it
couldn't hurt at this point.

Gowron sat back, smiling.  "My story continues with yet another twist."

"Pok correctly dropped the shields and released the tractor beam, as I
had ordered.  The Pakled captain beamed onto the bridge and three of my
men surrounded him.

"'Shields up!" I ordered Pok.

"He again followed my command.

"'Why did you do that?" the round Pakled captain asked.  Up close I
could smell his sour odor.  Like fruit left too long in the hot sun.  To
my nose, it was not a pleasant smell.

"'To frighten you, Captain,' I said.  'Is it working?"

"'I am Pakled,' the stupid oaf said.

"I laughed.  'So you keep telling us.  Tell us one thing more, Pakled.
Tell us who purchased your last shipment of weapons from the Soltaris
System."

"'Who told you that?" the Pakled captain asked. His little eyes shifted
around, back and forth, as he stared up at my men surrounding him.

"'A friend of yours,' I said, leaning in close.

'Meska.  A bartender on Balka."

"'Yes.  He's the one.  We sell him many weapons." The round fool puffed
up like a blowfish.  Proud. 'Contraband.  Illegal."

""The bartender,' I said.  'QIyah.  Are you sure, Pakled?"

"Yes.  He is the one.  He purchases much.  I sell him everything.  You
want something?  I can get it."

"I turned and went back to my command chair. 'Get this veQ off my
bridge." I dropped into my chair. 'Set a course back to the Balka
System.  Warp nine.  We will teach this bartender that Klingons do not
like being played with."'

Riker watched as Gowron paused, then glanced at Captain Picard.  "It is
getting late."

The captain nodded.  "Yes, but you tell an interesting story."

Gowron smiled.  "You honor me." Gowron turned to Barclay.  "Do you wish
to continue?"

"Y-yes, sir."

Gowron turned to the admiral.  "And you, Admiral."

"Captain Picard is right," Admiral Jellico said. "You tell a good story.
Is this a good place to break until tomorrow evening?  Or is there a
better one?"

Gowron smiled at the admiral.  "A politician.  There is a better
breaking place not far ahead."

"Then please do continue," the admiral said.

Gowron downed the last of his blood wine and leaned forward to continue
telling his story.

"It would take us over an hour to return to the Balka System.  I was
hungry.  I knew young Pok must be also.  So I ordered him to go with me
to the mess hall.  To continue his lessons.

"The hall was empty for the moment, but there was still food in the
center of the mess table.  We loaded our plates and sat.

"'When we catch this veQ of a bartender,' I said to Pok, 'I will let you
have the honor of killing him.  But a warrior must know more than just
how to kill an enemy.  You must know why you fight.  Your history. Do
you know your family line?"

"Pok's mouth was full of food.  He nodded.

"'Good,'l said."When you die with honor, you will serve with all your
warrior ancestors in the Black Fleet.  And you must know to greet them
all by name." "At that moment the old Klingon warrior loyal to Qua'lon
arrived in the mess.  He took a plate of food, and even though the hall
was empty except for us, he sat next to Pok.

"I whispered across to Pok.  'You must finish this now, Pok.  Establish
between you who is superior." "The old Klingon was eating, pretending to
ignore Pok.  Pok reached over and took the old Klingon's plate of food.

"The old Klingon stared at Pok, then growled.  He got up and left the
room.  Without challenging Pok.

", It is over between you,' I told the young warrior. 'He will not
challenge you again.  But do not dismiss his whole life because of this.
Old warriors once were

young.  The honors they have gathered should not fade

with time."

"I made Pok look me straight in the eye.  'Understand this, Pok,' I
said.  'He is no longer your enemy. Make him your friend.  Show him you
honor his past." "At that moment the comm demanded my attention.  'Sir,'
Surgh's voice came strong into the mess hall.  'We are approaching
Balka."

"'Good,' I said, standing.  'We will repay this bartender, who sent us
chasing wild ooghmey."

"We transported directly back into the bar, this time with our
disrupters drawn and ready.  I took with us the old Klingon warrior and
my two guards, T'lak and Ler'at.  Both had been with me for years.  Both
were with me when Torghn was killed.

"The singer was doing her job, but stopped after she noticed us.  The
bar seemed much emptier.  The bartender and his two thugs were gone.

"I moved to the singer.  'Where is he?" "'You are too late,' she said.
'He is gone." "'Where?" "She shook her head.  'I wish I knew." "'Ql'yah'

"'If you catch him,' the singer said, 'kill him slowly for me.  He owes
me three weeks pay, and the tips in this place aren't enough to keep a
wheeze beetle alive." "The singer slammed her fist on the piano.  I was
shocked at her anger.  It was real.  I knew that for certain.

"'If he were here now,' she said, 'I would personally rip his heart
out."

"'I would help you,' I said.  'Who would know

where he has gone?"

"She shrugged.  'Some of his connections.  Maybe. But they don't come in
here often.  Only when they need something."

"I pulled up a chair and sat down, indicating that Pok do the same.
"Then we will wait."

"The singer smiled at me.  "Then I will sing for you. But you will leave
your disrupters."

"I glanced around at the bar patrons but saw no one who would be of
danger to us.  So I gave my guards and Pok the signal to place our
weapons with the person filling in as bartender.  He looked so relieved,
I laughed at him.  He then served us our drinks on the house.

"Pok and I sat at one table.  My two guards and the old Klingon sat at
another table.  We listened to the singer do a Klingon opera.  Apin, she
was good to listen to.

"As she sang her song, I turned and whispered to Pok.  'Meska the
bartender was only a buyer for the real assassins.  I suspect someone
among my own people to be one of them.  How else would the probe have
found its way into my own belongings?"

"I stared at young Pok.  'Tell me.  Whom do you suspect?" "

Gowron stared at Lieutenant Barclay so hard Riker started to feel uneasy
just sitting beside him.  Finally Barclay said, "S-sir?  I don't
unders-s-stand."

"Whom do you suspect?" Gowron said.  "You are

playing the role of young Pok.  Do you not think I took the three
warriors with us to the surface for a reason?"

"You s-s-suspect all three?"

Gowron roared his laughter.  "Of course not.  The old Klingon I knew to
be an honorable warrior.  He could have left service to live a
comfortable life long before.  But he stayed on, leaving himself open to
challenges by younger warriors.  Warriors like Pok.  Do not think that
because a warrior is old, he is any less than he was."

"I-I meant no disrespect, sir."

Gowron waved the comment away.  "I will answer for you, even though the
clues have been throughout the story.  It is getting late.  T'lak had
made me uncomfortable of late.  His actions were odd.  I had suspected
him."

"How did you catch him?" Riker asked.  He surprised himself by his
sudden question.  Dax smiled at him again.

"I will tell you," Gowron said.  "And then the evening will be at an
end."

"The singer had finished her song and the bar applauded.  I shouted to
her.  'Well sung, again."

"She stood and held out her hand.  'Why don't you just give me the money
this time.  I promise I will break something later of equivalent value."

"I laughed at her joke.  I turned to T'lak.  'I am short of money.  Give
this woman something and I shall repay it twice when we return to the
ship."

"T'lak reached into his pocket and pulled out

something he kept in his fist.  He stood and moved toward the singer.
But I stopped him before he handed her what he carried.  I grabbed his
hand and forced it over and open.

"He held two Acta crystals.  Two very distinct Acta crystals.  Crystals
I had marked earlier with special marks.  And given to Meska the
bartender in payment for the drinks.

"' Acta crystals are rare in this sector,' I said to T'lak.  'Just
earlier today I had some.  They passed from my hand to Meska the
bartender's.  Now they have somehow made their way into yours.  How can
that be?"

" I twisted and shoved T'lak hard.  He fell to the floor and the old
Klingon, Pok, and my other guard pulled him to his feet and held him.

"'It was you, T'lak.  You betrayed me." "I turned my back on him.

"Then I said, not looking at him, 'Now, you will tell me everything.  I
want to know where that bartender went.  Tell me now before I kill you."

"My back was turned, but suddenly I heard a scuffle.  Then a disrupter
went off.  I turned quickly, but not quickly enough.  The singer had
killed T'lak.  I was about to turn on her when I noticed T'lak had a
small disrupter in his hand.  He must have kept it hidden on him and
pulled it.

"He got away,' the old Klingon said.  'He was about to kill you.  She
shot him."

"I turned to her.  Nodded my thanks.  'I thought weapons were not
allowed."

"'That rule is for customers only,' she said.  And then she smiled at
me.  I knew at that moment she had been telling the truth about the
bartender.

"I turned back to my men.  'Search him."

"They searched T'lak's body until they found a credit slip.  The old
Klingon handed it to me.  I studied it, then handed it to the singer.
'You recognize this?" "'A Galorine credit slip," she said.  She handed
it back to me.  'Meska had dealings on Galor.  Connections.  He might
have gone there."

"'Galor?" I did not know of such a place.  'Do you know where it is?"

"The singer brightened at my lack of knowledge. 'Take me with you.  I
will show you.  Get me off this forsaken hole of a planet."

"I did not like the idea.  She could tell.

"'I will not get in the way,' she said.

"I did owe her my life.  This seemed to be the right thing.  'See that
you do not,' I said.  'Come then.  To Galor."

"We left T'lak on the floor.  He died without honor."

Gowron stood.  "The hour is late.  The morning is not far.  I depart."

With that, almost before the rest of them could get to their feet, he
headed across the now far lesscrowded bar and out onto the Promenade.

Barclay looked vastly relieved.  Riker patted him on the back.  "You're
doing fine."

Barclay only nodded his thanks and followed Picard and the admiral
toward the entrance.  Riker turned to Dax.  "Another try at dinner
tomorrow night?"

She smiled.  "I'd love that.  After the meeting?"

"Perfect," Riker said.

She walked beside him, silently, until they reached Ops.  Then with a
slight wave from her he transported with Captain Picard back to the
Enterprise.

And to what he hoped would be a good night's sleep.

Chapter Twelve

"PICARD TO RIKER."

The call woke Riker.

"Go ahead," Riker said to the darkness over his bed.  He pushed himself
up and glanced at the clock near his bed.  It had only been four hours
since he had fallen asleep.  He still had three hours before the day's
meetings were to start.

"I need you to meet me in transporter room one in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir," Riker said.

Without a wasted motion he was out of bed and getting ready.  Twelve
minutes later he walked into the transporter room.  Captain Picard was
already there.

"Sorry to wake you, Number One," he said as he stepped up on the pad.

"Not a problem," Riker said.  "Troubles, I gather."

"I think so," Picard said.  Then he said to the transporter chief,
"Energize."

The next moment they were being greeted in Ops by Commander Sisko and
Dax.

"This looks serious," Riker said softly to Dax as they headed for the
lift.

"It is," she said.

Within a few minutes they met Odo in a corridor that Riker figured to be
an empty living or guest quarters.  But he wasn't familiar enough with
the layout of the station to be sure.

"Any more information?" Sisko asked Odo as they stopped in front of an
open door.

"No, sir," Odo said.  "We have left everything as we found it." He
indicated they all should enter.

Just inside the door was the body of a Saurian, his long, slender
fingers and thin frame looking even thinner in death.  His blood had
pooled under him, leaving a damp, almost metallic smell in the air.  His
eyes were open, staring.  Obviously his last sight had been his
attacker.

Riker stepped inside the door and around the body to give room for
Picard and Sisko to follow.

"Knife wound, into the lungs," Odo said, kneeling over the body and
pointing to the chest.  "His name is Nibo Hoq.  He is a Saurian trader,
with a ship full of legal goods.  He has been here three days for
repairs."

Picard knelt over the Saurian and studied him for a moment, then stood.
"Any other record?"

Odo nodded.  "He had a reputation of being able to

deliver information to the highest bidder.  He was never caught doing
anything illegal, but we suspected him and had kept him under fairly
tight watch."

"Nothing, I gather, came up?" Picard asked. "Correct, sir," Odo said.
"Nibo Hoq did nothing suspicious during his three days here."

"Except die," Dax said.

"Except that," Odo agreed.

Riker glanced around the empty room.  At first glance there was no sign
that anyone had inhabited the room since the last cleaning.  But then on
closer inspection he could see smudges on the table.  And in the center
of the floor what looked to be a few small drops of something.  He moved
over to them and knelt, trying to get a better picture of just what they
were.

"Wax," Odo said, moving over and standing above Riker.  "From first
guess I would say simple candle wax." He turned and pointed to the door.
"Sensors in the door were circumvented so that it could be pushed open
and closed without station monitors catching the movement."

"Is that easy to do?" Picard asked.

Commander Sisko laughed without humor.  "Cardassian technology has many
different ways in and around it.  This was a new one for us."

"So how did you find him in here?" Picard asked, pointing to the
Saurian.  "He doesn't appear to have been dead that long."

"would estimate two hours at most," Odo said.

"Does this have anything to do with the meetings?"

Riker asked.  "Or the bombing?."

Commander Sisko motioned to Odo that he would explain the rest.  "That's
where the main problem comes in," Sisko said.  "A guard noticed the door
slightly ajar.  When he pushed it open to investigate, he was hit and
knocked out.  He said the Saurian was already dead.  He saw that as he
opened the door.  He also said it was a Klingon warrior who hit him."

"What?" Riker asked.

"He is certain?" Picard asked.

"Yes, Captain," Odo said.  "The guard can't identify his attacker, but
he knows it was a Klingon."

Picard glanced at Riker who only shook his head. Riker didn't want to
fully believe what he had just heard.  The implications of that would
take a moment to sink in.  He went back to studying the room to give his
mind some time to work.  He could see no other evidence.  And nothing
that would make any sense of this so far.

"So how many Klingons are on the station at this moment?" Picard asked,
after a moment of silence in the room.

"None," Commander Sisko said.

"That we know of," Odo said.  "All the Klingons with Gowron's ships beam
back to their respective ships every night.  There are no others here."

"And one could not remain behind," Dax said. "We have a careful check
system, as well as transporter records.  No one stayed behind after
Quark's closed last night.  We have already double-checked."

"Shields have been kept up except during beaming," Sisko said.  "And we
have monitored every single transmission to or from the station."

Picard glanced down at the body of the Saurian. "Yet a Klingon was seen
here?"

Sisko nodded.

"It seems," Picard said, "that we have what they used to call a
locked-room mystery in detective Hetion.  A Klingon is the prime
suspect.  Yet no Klingon could have done this."

Riker moved back to the door and studied the lock and the door.  Then he
tried to push it closed.  It was very heavy.  And very hard to push.  He
doubted the thin, light Saurian could have done it.  But a Klingon
warrior could easily have.

"What information would have been valuable to a Klingon?" Picard asked.
He glanced around the room, looking for any answer.  "Information that
this Saurian might have?"

"Valuable enough to kill for?"'Dax said.  "I don't know."

"A threat against Gowron's life?" Riker said.  "It fits with the
Cardassian warnings."

"That it does, Number One," Picard said.  "But just how?"

"I don't know how," Odo said.  "But at the moment I have two bodies, a
rogue Klingon, and no answers.  I don't like that."

"Neither do I," Commander Sisko said, his deep voice filling the small
room.  "Neither do I."

On that point, Riker had to agree.  He didn't like it either.  And he
had a very bad feeling about all this.

Lursa sat in the command chair in the near darkness of the Bird of Prey
bridge.  She kept staring at the Federation station on long-range scan.
She grew tired of waiting.  They had waited for over a day now. Cloaked.
Sitting in the darkness.  The day's meetings between the Federation and
the dog Gowron were about to start.  She had heard nothing from her
contacts.

Behind her the door to bridge hissed open.  A moment later B'Etor stood
by her side.  She said nothing, There was nothing to say.

"Take the watch," Lursa said.  "I will get food."

She stood.  B'Etor slipped into the command chair. They could not afford
to wait much longer.  Yet they had no choice.

She was almost off the bridge when her communications officer said,
"Incoming message from the station.  Cloaked channel."

Instantly B'Etor was beside Lursa behind the officer.  He worked quickly
to decode the message, then turned to them.  "Gowron is always the first
to beam

off the station after the day's meetings."

"Anything more?"

"No."

B'Etor turned, almost angry.  "What is dRacLa thinking?  His information
is worthless."

"No, sister," Lursa said.  "It is good information.

Exact information.  And it will allow us to carry on with our plan."

B'Etor stopped and turned.  Ready to argue with her sister.  But when
she saw Lursa was smiling, she stopped.  Lursa had not smiled in days.
And only the possibility of Gowron's death would make her smile so. This
message truly was good.

Chapter Thirteen

THE MORNING SESSION Of the meetings again gained no ground.  Picard felt
more frustrated than ever.  With little sleep, the two deaths, and
Admiral Jellico's stubborn refusal to compromise with Gowron, Picard
felt totally at a loss for a solution.  The only place the parties
seemed to be getting along was during Gowron's story sessions.  They
were certainly far more interesting than the meetings.

As the parties around the table stood for their lunch break, Picard
turned to Gowron.  "I am very much enjoying your story of young Pok."

"Thank you, Captain," Gowron said.  "I enjoy telling it."

"Will you have time to finish the story this evening?

it will be our last evening together."

Gowron nodded, thinking.  "There is still much to tell."

Gowron glanced up at Picard, and instantly Picard knew Gowron had caught
on to Picard's idea.  Maybe a session of the story at lunch would help
break down some of the barriers.

Also, Picard had the feeling that if anything was going to come of these
meetings, Gowron was setting up the possibility in the telling of his
story.

"If my listeners are interested," Gowron said to the room.  "I could
continue the story of Pok for a short time during lunch.  Tonight the
end will be reached without strain."

"A wonderful idea," Picard said, loudly.  He turned to Jellico.
"Admiral?"

The admiral hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I would enjoy that."

"Good," Picard said.  He turned to Riker.  "Number One, have Lieutenant
Barclay meet us in Quark's in five minutes."

"Yes, sir," Riker said.  And as he turned away Picard caught Riker's
smile.

Picard noted that it didn't take long for Gowron's audience to be
settled around the same table in the back of Quark's bar.  Two
Federation security officers and two Klingon guards stood watch over the
group a short distance away.

Dax sat next to Riker again.  They seemed to be sharing a great deal of
time and laughter lately.  Picard noted that they made a good couple.

Lieutenant Barclay was the last to arrive by only a minute.  He got
settled as Quark and Rom both scurried around serving drinks and
everyone's order for lunch.

Picard had ordered only a small salad.  Riker and Dax both ordered
sandwiches.  Jellico had a bowl of soup with extra crackers.  And Gowron
a bowl of gagh. As he claimed when it was placed in front of him, it was
his favorite food.

Gowron took a few bites and washed it down with a large drink of ale. He
then looked around at his audience and without a second's hesitation
started into his story.

"We took the woman singer with us out of the bar.  I felt she could be
trusted.  And she had saved my life.

"On the ship she gave coordinates for Galor.  Then stood to one side,
out of the way of those working.  For this part of the trip I assigned
young Pok to the communications console.

"After an hour I turned to my navigator, Chaql. 'How long to Galor?"

"'If the human's coordinates were correct,' Chaql said, 'within three
hours."

"From where she stood, the singer said, "The human's coordinates are
correct.  I hope your navigation is as good."

"I laughed.  This human singer knew Klingons.  She knew how to respond
to a Klingon's challenge.  I liked her.  I turned to her.  'We should be
overtaking his ship shortly.  What kind of weapons does it have?"

"'Nothing a Bird of Prey can't handle,' she said.

"Again, I trusted her.  There was no need to ask more.

"A short time later, Pok said, 'Picking up a ship, within sensor range.
At warp six point five." "'Details." I ordered.

"A moment later Pok listed the ship's configuration.  The singer had
been correct.  If the ship in front of us belonged to the bartender, it
was no match for my ship.

"'That's him,' the singer said after she heard the ship's description.

"'Engaging cloaking device,' Chaql said.

"'No!" I said.  'I want him to feel us breathing down his neck. Increase
speed."

"A few moments later young Pok at communications said, 'Sir.  They are
hailing us."

"'On screen,' I ordered.

"After a moment the image on the main screen changed to a picture of the
face of the bartender.  He smiled, then noticed that the singer had
moved up to a position behind me.

"'Hello, Gowron,' he said.  'I see you've picked up a new bed partner."

"'It is over, Meska,' I said.  'We have found you.  Do not sacrifice
your crew.  Come aboard my ship.  Meet your death honorably."

"The bartender glanced at the singer behind me, then back at me.  'I
have no intention of dying."

"I glanced back at the singer.  She shrugged.  'His weapons are useless
from this distance."

"I turned back to the bartender.  I was puzzled at his attitude, but I
did not let it show.  'You are outgunned. You cannot outrun us.  I will
destroy your vessel and everyone aboard."

"The bartender laughed.  'I don't think so, Gowron."

"'Your confidence does not fit your situation.  You are either insane or
simply a fool."

"Again the bartender laughed.  'Do you think I am foolish enough to work
alone?  I have a man aboard your ship."

"This time it was my turn to laugh.  'T'lak.  He is dead.  Lying in his
own blood on the floor of your bar. Like so much litter."

"'Really?" the bartender said.  But the news did not seem to reduce his
confidence.

"'Surrender, now,' I said.

"'T'lak was with you for some time,' the bartender said, staring
intensely at me.  'Who knows what other betrayals he might be guilty of.
Sabotage, perhaps?"

"Then the bartender nodded, his gaze focused on a place over my
shoulder.  I should have understood at that moment, but I did not.

"Suddenly a loud beeping started.  A beeping not normally heard on my
ship.

"'Over there,' the singer said, pointing at a panel.  I rushed to the
location of the beeping, but ChaqI beat me there.  He pulled off the
panel.  In an area mostly hidden from view I saw that a detonator was
making the loud sound.  With the loud beeping, it obviously was made to
be found when triggered.  Therefore, it

was intended for other uses besides blowing up the ship.

"The detonator was keyed to a pad with five numbers.  Obviously a
certain code had to be punched in to deactivate it.

"Chaql inspected the detonator quickly, then glanced up at me.  'It is
connected to the antimatter containment field."

"'Shields are dropping,' Pok yelled.

"turned.  The singer had moved to Chaql's panel and lowered the shields.

"'Stop her,' I ordered.

"Pok and D'clq at once moved from their stations toward her, but she
yelled out, 'Now!'

"A transporter beam took her.

"Before my men could stop her.

They stopped as she vanished, and quickly returned to their posts.

"Then I heard the bartender laughing again on the main screen.  I turned
to see the singer now standing beside him.  I had been completely taken
into another of the bartender's traps.  I could feel my anger.  These
two would die.  I would see to that.

"'Pok.  Take navigation.  Close in on the ship.  Engage tractor beam."

"I faced the screen.  'Bartender.  Singer.  This changes nothing.  I
will still destroy your ship."

"'Kill us,' the singer said, 'and you will be dead in minutes.  That
detonator is set on a timer." She smiled at me.  'Now.  You promise to
let us go, and I will give you the correct sequence you need to disarm
it."

"I turned my back on her.

"Pok was following my orders.  I moved to Chaql's side over the
detonator.  'How does it work?"

"He pointed to the pad of five keys.  'This is the arming function. Once
it has been set, you must tap in the correct sequence of keys to disarm
it." Softly he said, "There is no other way."

"'Time is running out, Gowron,' the singer said on the screen behind me.

"I ignored her.

"'Chaql.  Is there any way to determine the sequence?" "He shook his
head just enough for me to see.

"Behind me the singer said, 'You do not understand, Gowron.  I have the
sequence." "I turned to Pok.  'Release the tractor beam."

"'At last,' the singer said.  'I knew you would see it my way, Gowron."

"'Lock disrupters on target,' I ordered.

"'Wha .  .  ." the singer seemed to gasp.  'Wait!'

"I raised my hand, ready to give the order to fire.  If we were to die,
at least I would take the knowledge that the person responsible had paid
the price.

"And also that I killed the person who killed my friend.

"'He's bluffing,' the bartender said.  He was still smiling.  "They
won't do it."

"'Idiot!" the singer shouted at him.  'You don't understand Klingons."
"The bartender laughed at her.  'This is not one of

your Klingon operas."

"The singer held up her hand to me.  'Wait!' "I paused a moment longer.

"She was clearly panicked.  She knew she was about to die.

"'You want to know who hired us?" she asked.  'A

Klingon.  From Taganika.  From an ancient house."

"The bartender laughed.  'You embarrass yourself

He is bluffing."

"The fool did not understand us.  But I knew she did.  At least enough
to be worried.

"'You want a name, Gowron,' the singer said, ignoring the bartender and
turning to face me.  'I can give you that.  A name, in exchange for our
lives." "I looked calmly at her.  'I have sworn a blood oath to kill you
and all those responsible for the death of my friend Torghn.  Your lives
are not a negotiating point."

"'But,' the singer said, 'if you kill us, you will die." ""Then let us
all die together." "I dropped my hand.  'Fire."

"Beside the singer the bartender suddenly realized he had made a
mistake.

"A very large mistake.

"On the main screen the faces of the bartender and the singer were
replaced by the beautiful scene of their ship exploding in a ball of
white.

"We all saluted the explosion.

"All the crew said, "pitlh."

"Pok's voice was full and loud among the voices.

"I turned to the crew.  "The blood oath is obeyed."

"Chaql nodded.  'But the detonator."

"I motioned for Pok.  'Come here."

"I pointed to the pad inside the panel.  'Pok.  We must disarm this
detonator now.  But only the correct sequence will work."

"I filled my voice with confidence and turned to my bridge crew.  'None
of us knows what that sequence is. Is that a correct assumption."

"'Yes,' they all said at the same time.

"I motioned for young Pok to kneel down beside the panel.  'Punch in any
sequence you feel is right.  No one will blame you if you choose
wrongly, Pok.  We are prepared to die."

"Pok looked nervous, as we all were.  He studied the pad for a moment,
then turned back to me.  For a moment I thought fear had overcome him.
But I was wrong.

"Very wrong.

"'Sir,' Pok said.  "The singer was responsible for this.  Correct?"

"I nodded.  'It would seem such was true."

""The opera she sang,' Pok said.  'It has a theme.  A simple theme."

"'You waste time,' Chaql said.  'Push the buttons. Enough talking.  I am
prepared to die."

"I held up my hand for Chaql to stop.  I understood what Pok was
thinking.  It made as much sense as anything else.

"'Yes,' I said.  "The opera has a theme."

"'A five-note theme,' Pok said.  'If I am correct."

"I nodded.  'You are."

"'If you would, sir, assign each note a number from one to five,' Pok
said.  'From low to high."

"I hummed the simple theme of the opera, then said the numbers to Pok.

"He nodded and took a deep breath.  Then he turned and without a
moment's hesitation punched in the five numbers I had given him.  His
hand did not even shake.  His father would have been so proud of him at
that moment.

"The device gave out a series of musical beeps, following the theme of
the opera, then went dead.

"The crew around the bridge yelled their joy.  Many slapped Pok on the
back, not even giving him time to stand.  We were all prepared to die.
But the quick thinking of a fellow warrior had saved us.  That was a
moment for rejoicing.

"And I joined in.

"Then I pulled Pok to his feet.  I, too, slapped him on the back.  "The
singer's aria from qul tuq.  I should have thought of that myself."

"I laughed.  And Pok laughed with me.  'But I did not.  I am glad you
did, young Pok."

"Pok only smiled.  But I knew that in the last few moments he had grown
to be a full warrior.

"I looked Pok in the face.  'We have killed the assassins who killed
your father, Pok.  Until we know who hired these assassins, the oath
will not be fulfilled.  We will find this KJingon from an ancient
house."

"Pok nodded.

"I shouted to my crew.  'Return to your stations.  Set a course for
Taganika."'

Gowron glanced around at those at the table as he took a drink of his
ale.

Picard had managed to finish most of his salad. And it looked as if most
of the others also were almost done.  But Gowron clearly had another
part of the story.  he wanted to tell this lunch hour.  And after his
long drink he immediately started in again.

"The trip back to Taganika, even at full warp, gave us all enough time
for dinner.  I went with Pok to the mess.  As we entered, Pok saw the
old Klingon and approached him.

"I could see as the old warrior looked up that he had a weary look in
his eyes.  He clearly thought this was finished between himself and
young Pok.  He knew he had lost.  What more was there to determine?

"But Pok surprised him.  He simply placed a writing pad down on the
table in front of the old warrior, then without a word moved to get
food.

"We filled our plates and returned to the table as the old Klingon
finished reading what Pok had given him.  He placed the pad on the table
as if it burned his hands.  Then he sat staring at it, as if he didn't
know what to do.

"Chaql sat down across from the old warrior and leaned forward.  'What
does it say?"

""The words are not for me to read aloud,' the old Klingon said.  His
voice was soft.  Very soft.

"I sat down next to Chaql and took the pad.  I glanced at what Pok had
done.  'Pok has written a GaTH'k, " I said, loud enough for all in the
mess to hear my voice.  'An ode of respect for the old Klingon, Ler'at."

"I turned to Chaql.  'Ler'at is full of old superstitions,' I said.  'He
believes it is bad luck to speak proud words about yourself.  I will
read them."

"That got a cheer of agreement from those in the mess.  The old Klingon
said nothing.  His gaze stayed focused on the table in front of him.

"So I read Pok's words.

'Ler'at, House of Tignar.  Warrior Son.

At the battle of teh, he killed many men.

At the battle of reth he took many hurts.

His arms were strong to lift the Bat'tleh high."

"I paused, then went on.

'His heart was fierce to keep the enemy afraid. At teh, at reth, at
lagon, at dumath, at negan. His arms are heavy now with the weight of
many battles.

His heart is burdened by the press of many honors. When he dies, the
heaven will shake with the screams of his comrades.

Warning the dead, Beware!  Beware!

A warrior is coming."

"I laid the pad down in front of the old Klingon and he picked it up.
The room was silent with respect for what we had all just heard.

"The old Klingon stood and moved around the table.  He placed a hand on
Pok's shoulder.  'May you die with honor, Pok." "Then the old Klingon
left the mess quickly.

"I turned to young Pok.  'This was a true GaTHk, Pok."

"The others in the room agreed, some loudly.  Then all went back to
their eating.

"In a quieter voice I said to Pok, 'I see the makings of a warrior poet
in you.  It runs in your family's blood.  Your father was also very good
at-'

"Before I could go any further, the communications officer announced we
were approaching Taganika.

"I broke off my sentence and stood.  'Come,' I said to young Pok.  'We
are almost there.  Prepare yourself for your return to your home as a
warrior."'

Gowron looked around at this audience again.  "It seems we must return
to our meeting.  The time grows short."

Admiral Jellico stood.  "Yes, it would seem that way."

"I look forward to hearing the conclusion of your story," Picard said as
he stood with Gowron.  And he did.  He had no idea just how the story
was going to end up.  Or what part it played in the talks and events
going on with the murders.  But he suspected it did in a very large way.

"Tonight, Captain," Gowron said.  "Tonight the story will find an end."

Picard nodded.  "Good.  I will be back here, waiting and listening."

"Yes," Gowron said.  "I look forward to the nights.  I have grown fond
of this table.  And the good company."

"I am honored," Picard said.

"As am I," Riker said.

Gowron laughed.  "Tonight you will match me, glass for glass, Commander
Riker."

Picard watched as Riker turned slightly pale at the thought of that much
blood wine.  Then he smiled.  "I will match you, sir."

Gowron laughed.  "True Klingon spirit.  I like that in a human."

Chapter Fourteen

"YOUR CHOICE THIS TJME," Lieutenant Jadzia Dax said, smiling.  Behind
her the others filed out of the afternoon meeting, talking among
themselves.  She had come over to Riker after the meeting and asked him
if he'd like a third try at dinner.

He'd gladly accepted.

Now he smiled at her, then decided.  "Quark's again.  Last time I didn't
have to pay for the dinner I had there."

"If I remember," she said, "didn't you pay with a headache?"

He waved her comment aside.  "I have paid for many a visit to a bar with
a headache."

She laughed and took his arm, turning him toward the door.  "Then
Quark's it is."

But this time they didn't even get seated before

their dinner was interrupted.  As they were entering Quark's Riker felt
the familiar sensation of being transported.

" What?" Dax said, turning toward him, a look of alarm on her face.
Obviously, people being beamed out of the middle of the station was not
a normal occurence.

"Sorry," he managed to say to her.

Now the question was, just where was he going?

And who was taking him?

Major Kira stood at the security console as the lift brought Chancellor
Gowron, Captain Picard, Lieutenant Worf, Admiral Jellico, Commander
Sisko, and three guards to Ops.

As they continued toward the transporter pad, she checked security
measures.  Everything seemed to be in order.  She also did a quick check
to make sure the two Cardassian ships were still in their positions.  In
almost two days they hadn't moved.  And Gul Dukat had not even called
the station.  It was very odd.  Very odd indeed.

Gowron laughed.  "Admiral Jellico," he said.  "I would be very proud to
show you my ship."

Kira couldn't hear Jellico's answer, but the admiral stepped up on the
platform next to Gowron and his two guards.

"Captain," Gowron said loudly to Captain Picard. "Are you sure you would
not like to join us?"

Captain Picard shook his head no.  Kira heard him

say, "Thank you, Gowron.  "But I have duties to attend to on the
Enterprise."

Gowron smiled.  "A captain's work, huh, Picard. Worf?"

'No, sir.  Thank you," Worf said.

Y ira did not hear Picard's response, but Gowron laughed.  Maybe this
laughter meant the afternoon's meetings had gone better.  Kira hoped so.
It would be a shame to have all this effort go to waste.

"Ready," Gowron said.

Commander Sisko turned to her.  "Lower shields."

She did as she was ordered.  Gowron opened his communicator.  "Four to
transport.  Dall!"

Suddenly the board in front of Kira went crazy. Two new Klingon Birds of
Prey decloaked right in front of the station.

One fired on Gowron's flagship.  The other stood off to one side.

"Shields up!" Sisko shouted.  "Red alert!"

Kira's actions were automatic as she triggered the red alert and brought
the shields up.  The weapons were instantly set to ready and brought up
to power.

But it was too late to stop the transport.  The four on the transporter
pad disappeared, only Kira did not like what her instruments had shown.

"Sir," Kira said, doing her best to make her voice remain calm.  "They
did not transport to Gowron's ship."

"What?" both Picard and Sisko said at the same time.

"When the Bird of Prey fired on Gowron's ship, its shields went up
automatically.  The transport was not done by that ship."

"So where did they go?" Sisko demanded, stepping toward her.

Kira let her fingers dance over her board.  It took only a moment to
have the answer.  "Sir.  They were taken to the second new Klingon
ship."

On the large screen Kira watched in shock as the two new Klingon ships
quickly turned to move away without firing another shot.  They again
cloaked, disappearing almost as fast as they had appeared.

Again things around Kira seemed to happen at once.

Gul Dukat's ship turned and shot off in the direction it seemed the two
Klingon ships had gone.  The other Cardassian ship stayed in position.

Picard tapped his com badge.  'Enterprise.  Lock on Commander Riker,
Lieutenant Worf, and myself and beam us directly to the bridge.  Now!"

"Shields down," Sisko ordered.

Kira instantly dropped the shields, and a moment later Picard and Worf
disappeared.

"Shields back up," Sisko ordered, and Kira did as she was told.

Then the two of them stood and watched as first Gowron's flagship, and
then, a moment later, the Enterprise turned and jumped to warp.

Both of them stood there for a moment in silence. Then Sisko said,
"Stand down from red alert.  Take us to yellow."

"Yes, sir," Kira said.

"Now," Sisko said.  "We have a Klingon somewhere on this station who
doesn't belong here.  I want him found.  I want you, Dax, and Odo in my
office in five minutes."

"Yes, sir," Kira said.  But at that moment she had no idea how she was
going to follow that order.  Since this morning before the meetings,
over forty Klingons had beamed aboard the station.  Which one didn't
belong?

She was about to call for Dax when she burst off the turbo lift.  "What
happened?  Riker was beamed off the

Promenade."

"I know," Kira said.  She looked up at the screen showing only one
Klingon Bird of Prey and one Cardassian ship left in positions around
the station.

Dax followed her gaze, then said, "Oh, my."

Chapter Fifteen

RiKER WENT FROM LOOKING at Jadzia Dax's beautiful but shocked face to
staring at the bridge of the Enterprise.

Beside him Captain Picard and Worf materialized at the same time.

"Red alert," Picard instantly said, moving to a position in front of the
screen.  Worf scrambled instantly to his station at security.

It seemed they both knew exactly what was going on.  Riker wanted very
much to ask what happened, but he knew he would get filled in after just
a moment.  He moved over to his position beside the captain.

The red alert lights came up.

On screen Gowron's flagship turned and quickly dropped into warp,
disappearing off in a direction headed for the Klingon Empire.

"Stay with that ship, Mister Data.  Engage."

"Yes, sir," Data said.  A moment later Riker watched as they turned and
went to warp nine.

"Where is Gul Dukat's ship?" Picard asked.

Data glanced at his board.  "On this same heading,

sir.  A few minutes ahead of Gowron's ship."

"Any sign of the other two ships?"

"No sir," Data said.  "They remain cloaked."

Picard nodded and turned and sat down.  "Well, then.  We'll just have to
trust that either the Cardassians or Gowron's crew have a way of
tracking a ship under cloak."

Riker moved to Picaed's side and sat down.  After a moment of sitting
there beside Picard with nothing seeming to be happening at once, he
asked, "What happened?"

Picard glanced at him, then smiled a half smile, understanding that
Riker had no idea what had gone on.  "Gowron and Admiral Jellico have
been kidnapped."

Picard must have assumed that was enough information, since he turned
back to the main screen and stared at the stars streaking past.

Riker felt his stomach clamp into a tight knot as the captain's words
slowly sank in.

And he felt downright queasy as the implications of

what had happened sank in.  The sector was now, very suddenly, poised on
the brink of war.

And it was up to them to stop it.

dRacLa, son of Vok, walked along the Promenade toward Quark's bar.  A
dozen other Klingon warriors walked on the Promenade.  For at least the
moment, he didn't stand out.  He needed both food and drink. He also
needed news.  He wasn't sure that his message had gotten out of the
station.  And if Lursa had received it.  If it had, he would move to
step two of his plan.

It appeared that the afternoon's meetings had just broken up.  Many
Klingons were around and none seemed to be in the slightest bit alarmed.
It was clear nothing had happened.  Yet.  But if it was to happen, it
would be anytime now.

He quickly moved into Quark's and to the bar.  A small Ferengi came to a
place in front of him.

"What can I get for you, fine sir?" the Ferengi asked, an annoying smile
on its face.

"Ale, first.  Then a full loaf of Klingon bread."

"Strange diet," the Ferengi said, and moved off.

dRacLa turned and stood watching out over the bar.  There was no one in
the room he recognized.  And that was good.  No one would know him.

Two Federation officers were entering.  Suddenly one of them was beamed
out, almost in midstride. The other looked very shocked, then turned and
headed off down the Promenade at a run.

It seemed now, that something had happened.

Something very important.

He laughed to himself as the Ferengi slid the ale in front of him.

"You like your own jokes," the Ferengi said.  "You ought to hear mine."

"Can you hurry the bread, Ferengi?" He laid an Acta crystal on the bar.

The Ferengi's eyes opened slightly, then he said, "Sure.  Sure," and
moved quickly down the bar.

Around the bar a few of the warriors suddenly answered their
communications calls.  The word passed quickly.  Within moments every
Klingon in the room got up and headed for the door.

"Wow," the Ferengi said, staring at all the warriors running for the
door.  He dropped the bread on the table.  "What's the rush?"

"Called back to our ships," dRacLa said.  He slid the crystal at the
Ferengi, then downed his ale.  With the bread tucked under his arm he
followed the rest of his Klingon brothers out of the bar.

But near a side corridor he turned left and slipped unseen into the many
halls of the huge station.

Gowron glanced around at the darkened room he found himself in after
transport.  He had expected to find himself on his transport platform in
his own ship.

But instead, he and his guards and Admiral Jellico were transported into
a small, dark room, with the doors closed and very securely latched.  He
knew the

room was on a Bird of Prey.  But he also knew he wasn't on his own ship.

"What?" Jellico said.  "Is this .  .

"Where is this place?" Gowron called out.

When no answer came back, he indicated to the door.  "Get us out of
here.  mop!"

Rocla and uqvam, his guards, both instantly pulled their disrupters.

Rocla adjusted the setting on his.  Then he pointed it at the locking
mechanism on the door.  His shot made no impact.  It became instantly
clear that the walls were protected by a forcefield.  There would be no
breaking out.

"bup, " he ordered his guard.  "We will wait."

Both guards kept their weapons drawn, as they should have done, and took
up positions flanking him.

Admiral Jellico finally managed to find his voice. "What happened?"

"It seems, Admiral," Gowron said, "that we have been taken hostage."

"But who would want to take me?" he asked, glancing around.  "For what
reason?"

Gowron forced himself to not laugh.  "Admiral.  I am afraid you are just
an unlucky passenger.  This is a Klingon ship.  I fear this is a plan to
kill me." He glanced around the small room.  "And it may well succeed."

"How can such a thing happen?" Jellico asked. "And why.  Who would do
this?"

This time Gowron could not hold back his laughter.

"Admiral, have you not been listening to my story of

Pok?"

The admiral looked at the Klingon chancellor for a moment, then nodded.
"Yes.  But I thought that was only a story."

"Admiral," Gowron said.  "The story was truth.  I said as much.  There
is always meaning beyond a Klingon's story."

He turned away from the stupid human and moved to the wall.  "Now," he
said to the admiral.  "I suggest you get comfortable.  We may have a
long wait."

With that, Gowron put his back against the wall and slid to the floor.
In front of him his two guards took up their positions.  They would give
their life for him.  He hoped it would not come to that.

Chapter Sixteen

LuRsA GLANCED AT HER SISTER, who stood beside her, intently watching the
screen.  Then she, too, went back to watching.  They were at warp eight,
maximum velocity under cloak.  They were heading into Klingon territory.
Gowron and his guards had been beamed directly into a room on the Botka,
which traveled close beside them.

They were both traveling under cloak.  Yet behind them followed three
ships.  The Cardassian Gul Dukat's ship, Gowron's flagship, and the
Federation ship Enterprise.  And all three were overtaking them quickly.

"How can they know we are here?" B'Etor asked for the fifth time.

For the first four times neither Lursa nor any of the crew had an
answer.  Yet it seemed their pursuers did

know exactly where they were.  She had already made two course
corrections.  But each time Dukat's ship followed exactly.  And Gowron's
flagship and the Enterprise did the same.  This made no sense.

And it could not be happening.  Their ship was cloaked.  Not even
another Klingon ship could accurately follow a cloaked Bird of Prey.

"Alter course again," Lursa ordered.  "Two degrees, then bring us back
on heading."

The other ships followed as if she were making the turns in plain sight.

,,They will catch us shortly," B'Etor said.  "What then?  We can't stay
ahead of them if we are cloaked."

"We fight," Lursa said.  "And when we die, Gowron dies with us."

"So be it," B'Etor said.

"So be it," Lursa repeated.  "But I have another idea first."

"Captain," Worf said.  "It is possible the Cardassians are working with
the enemies of the Empire."

Riker glanced around to where Worf stood, intently watching the path of
the two ships in front of them. Riker had thought of the same thing, as
he was sure Picard had also.  This might just be Gul Dukat's way of
leading Gowron's ship and the Enterprise into a wild ride across space.

But on the other hand, if Dukat truly did have a way of tracking a
cloaked ship accurately, at these speeds he might be Gowron and Admiral
Jellico's only hope.

"I know, Mister Worf," Captain Picard said.  "Continue following, Mister
Data."

"Yes, sir," Data said.  "Dukat is changing course again."

"Stay with him."

"Ten minutes and we'll be into the neutral zone," Worf said.

Suddenly ahead of them the scene changed.  What had simply been three
ships following in close order became five as two Klingon Birds of Prey
decloaked. They were a surprisingly close distance ahead of Dukat's
ship.

"That answers the question of Dukat being able to follow a cloaked
ship," Riker said.  "But I wonder how he managed that trick?"

"I'd like to know that myself," Picard said.  "And about a thousand
other people in Starfleet."

"The two Birds of Prey are accelerating," Data said.  "They are now at
warp nine point one."

"Go to warp nine point two.  Stay with them, Mister Data," Picard said.

"They are sending a subspace message ahead of them.  They are calling
for help."

Riker glanced over at Picard, but he showed no emotion.  If extra Birds
of Prey came into the fight, this might get out of hand very quickly.
And there was no way of knowing just how many ships would come to such a
call.

"Any other starships near here?" Picard asked.

"No, sir," Worf said.  "The closest is the Merrimac, a good five hours
away."

Picard nodded and said nothing.

"Gowron's ship is also calling ahead for help," Worf said.

"We're going to have a Klingon civil war," Riker said.  He just couldn't
believe this was happening.  He should be having a relaxed, fun dinner
with Jadzia Dax at this very moment.

"Let's see if we can stop that war from developing," Picard said.  "And
any other war, for that matter. Mister La Forge?"

"Go ahead, sir." Geordi La Forge's voice came back strong over the comm.

"How much harder can we push this?"

"For a short time I can give you warp nine-four, sir," Geordi said. "But
I can't promise you too much more than that."

"Do it," Picard said.  "Mister Data, warp nine point four.  I want to be
on top of those two Birds of Prey."

"Yes, sir," Data said.

On screen the ships in front of them visibly moved closer.  Within a few
seconds the Enterprise moved past both Gowron's flagship and Dukat's
ship as if it was passing them in a race.

"Mister Worf.  I want you to target both ships at the same time.  Slow
them down, without destroying them.  We don't know where Chancellor
Gowron and Admiral Jellico are."

"Understood, sir," Worf said.

A moment later Worf said, "In range, sir."

"Fire." Picard said.

Chancellor Gowron had spent the time in the darkened room ignoring
Admiral Jellico and listening to the ship around him.  He knew they were
traveling under cloak.  And at top speed under cloak.

Then, when the sound changed faintly, he knew the cloak had been
dropped.  And he could hear the engines being pushed even harder.  His
guess would have been over warp nine.

It took him a moment to understand why.  Why a cloaked ship would need
extra speed, more than being cloaked.  Then he understood.  Someone had
been tracking the cloaked ship since they left the station.

He suddenly laughed aloud, understanding exactly what had happened.  And
most likely, how.

"What's so funny?" Admiral Jellico asked.  Gowron could not miss the
sneer in the admiral's voice.

"Our enemies are stupid," Gowron sai .  "Their stupidity may yet get us
killed.  But they are stupid, so our chances of living are better."

"How do you know that, sitting in here?" Jellico asked, staring at
Gowron.

"I have ears, Admiral," Gowron said.  Then, turning directly to look at
the admiral, the head of the Klingon High Council said, "And I know how
to listen."

Before Admiral Jellico could respond, the ship was rocked.  Gowron
rolled with the first impact and came to his feet, braced against a wall
for the next.

"Watch the door.  If the field drops, I want out of here.  Quickly."

Both guards nodded their understanding.

Again the ship rocked with another hit.  Admiral Jellico tried to hang
on, but he fought the movement and ended up banging his arm and head
against the wall.  He was not knocked out.  But he could not walk.

Gowron ignored him.  There would be time for him if they lived through
this.  Instead Gowron kept listening.

"We have slowed," he said after another moment.

Another blast rocked the ship and the lights flickered.  Instantly both
his guards fired at the door and it

swung open.

"Good," Gowron said.  He took the disrupter from Rocla and indicated
that the guard should pick up the stunned admiral and bring him along.
Then without so much as a glance backward he was out the door.

"Fire again, Mister Worf," Captain Picard ordered.

Again the blue beams of the phasers shot out at both Klingon Birds of
Prey.

"Direct hits," Worf said.  "They are losing power and slowing."

Two phaser bursts shot from one of the Birds of

Prey, and the Enterprise rocked.

"Shields holding," Data said.

"Warn the other two ships to stand clear and not fire," Picard said.

"One ship is again trying to power up," Worf said.

"Hit them again," Picard said.

Again two blasts of phaser fire shot out, wrapping the Klingon ship into
a ball of fire.

"They have lost power," Worf said.

"The two ships are slowly moving apart," Data said.  "In less than
thirty seconds the second ship will be out of our range."

"Stay with this one," Picard said.  "Inform Gowron's ship of our
decision."

A moment later Data said, "Done, sir.  Gowron's ship is moving after the
other.  Dukat is remaining outside the fight."

Picard nodded.  "Smart man, Dukat.  He's just letting the enemies
fight."

"He brought us here to fight his battle," Riker said.

"That he did," Picard said.  "That he did."

Chapter Seventeen

GowRON LED THE WAY into the hall.  A disrupter blast almost caught him,
missing his right ear by a very small distance.  He rolled to the left
against the corridor wall and came up firing.  His shot took down the
one guard without problem.

"He should have learned to fire more accurately," Gowron said, standing
over the body.

uQvam laughed, but kept the hall behind Gowron under surveillance.

"We go to the bridge," Gowron said.  He took the guard's gun and gave it
to Rocla, who shifted the admiral on his shoulder slightly and tucked
the gun in his belt.

Gowron turned and headed off toward the lift.  Over his shoulder he said
to Rocla, "Along the way I know where we can stash some baggage."

"That would be helpful," Rocla said, shifting the weight of the admiral
again slightly on his shoulder.

Admiral Jellico only grunted.

They left the admiral in a large storage closet with the warningthat he
should remain very quiet.  He nodded his understanding before Gowron
shut the closet door on him.

Then, as they moved the final distance to the turbo lift, Gowron said
softly to his guards.  "I have hdd a desire to do that to him.  All
week."

This time both guards laughed.

A few moments later they crouched on the lift as it neared the bridge
level.  Gowron could see a faint haze of smoke and the alert lights
blinking.  He knew the crew were frantically working to get their ship
working.  And were guarding against an attack from the outside.  He
doubted they had been alerted to their escape.  They would never expect
an attftck from within.

With a nod, Gowron and his two guards stood. "Surrender!" he called out
in a loud, solid voice.  They stepped off the lift onto the bridge.  "Or
die."

Three of the Klingons at their stations went for weapons, but Gowron and
his men already had their disrupters drawn.  The others never fired even
one shot.

The navigator and the captain both raised their hands in surrender.

Gowron walked up to the captain.  He knew the man.  cha'Dlch, son of
hiJaK.  Gowron personally had given him his command on this very ship.

"You dishonor yourself, cha'DIch," Gowron said. "Working for the House
of Duras.  And against the Empire."

The man said nothing.

"Your weapon," Gowron said, holding out his hand.

The captain's hand went slowly to his side, then quickly drew out his
disrupter.

Gowron cut him down before the disrupter even got above his belt.

The man fell to the floor, and Gowron used his foot to turn him over to
make sure he was dead.  Then to the man's face he said, "Stupidity does
not make up for a lack of honor."

He turned to his guards.  "Can you bring up the screens?"

One guard moved quickly to a console and a moment later the front screen
showed the Starship Enterprise at close range.

"Picard," Gowron said to himself "You should have been born a Klingon.
You would have given us much honor."

Lursa stared at the scene in front of her.  The Botka seemed to be
heavily damaged.  The Federation ship Enterprise hung near it.  They had
also taken some damage, but not as bad as the Botka.  Smoke filled the
bridge and made her choke slightly.  But she refrained from coughing.

Gowron's ship stayed close to hers as they slowly drifted away from the
Botka and the Enterprise.

"We will have warp power again momentarily," B'Etor said.  "And the
cloaking device still works."

"Good news," Lursa said.  "But play dead for the moment.  Just keep the
shields up."

"Understood," her navigator said.

B'Etor moved up to her side.  "Sister.  What are you thinking.?"

"I am thinking," Lursa said, "that the Cardassian ship had planted a
device on the Botka that allowed them to track us.  Possibly with
Gowron's party."

"Since Gowron is there, and we are here .  .

B'Etor said.

She did not need to say any more.  Lursa turned to her engineer.  "Can
you give me warp three?  Under cloak."

He glanced at his instruments, then nodded.  "Yes. But we will need
repairs shortly."

Lursa nodded.  "On my command," she said.

The Botka is hailing the Enterprise, " B'Etor said.

"Now!" Lursa said.  "nom!"

"Sir," Data said.  "We are being hailed."

Before Picard could answer, Worf said, "Sir.  The other ship has again
jumped to warp and cloaked."

Picard glanced up at the screen.  Gowron's ship was not following it.
And neither was Gul Dukat's.  It seemed that whatever Dukat could track
had been on the ship that was hailing them.  He just hoped Gowron and
the admiral were on this ship.

"Nothing we can do now about that one," Picard said.  "On screen."

Gowron's smiling face lit up the screen.  Behind him Picard could see
his two guards at the consoles.  And two bodies were in sight on the
floor.  Picard had no doubt that other bodies were close by.

"Thank you, Captain," Gowron said.  "For your help."

Picard nodded.  "It is good to see you well, my friend.  And the
admiral?"

Gowron smiled.  "He bumped his head and is resting below."

Picard decided at that moment it was better to not ask.  He had a hunch
he would find out the entire story later.

"Your ship is approaching," Picard said.

Gowron glanced at his screen and then nodded.  "I will return to the
station shortly.  It seems we have more than one story to finish this
evening."

Picard laughed.  "It would seem that way.  Picard out."

Chapter Eighteen

THE VOYAGE BACK to Deep Space Nine took considerably longer than the
flight away.  Picard sat in his command chair most of the three hours,
simply staring at the stars through the main screen.  He didn't feel
like resting just yet, even though the evening was growing late.
Commander Riker sat beside him, also seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
The rest of the bridge crew did their jobs quietly, giving him the time.
He was grateful.

Shadowing the Enterprise were both Gul Dukat's ship and Gowron's
flagship.  Picard had talked to neither ship, although he knew he needed
at least to acknowledge Dukat's help.  He had not yet decided on the
right words.

Admiral Jellico had been brought aboard the Enterprise and Dr.  Crusher
had checked him over, fixed his

mild concussion, and sent him to sleep for the eyening.

The captured Klingon ship had been taken under control by two of
Gowron's fleet ships.  The call for help from the House of Duras ships,
it seemed, was never answered.  Or at least was canceled by the ship
that had escaped.  How Gowron would handle the entire situation when he
got back to Qu'onos was beyond imagining.  Picard would probably never
know.

He did know they had escaped both a sectorwide war, and a Klingon civil
war.  But it had been much too close a call.

For most of the last three hours his focus had been on trying to rescue
something from the summit meetings.  Somewhere there was a common ground
between the Federation and the Klingon Empire.  Today had shown that.

He stood and paced in front of the main screen.

He knew the answer was right in front of him.  He just couldn't see it.
The frustration was eating at him like a bad hunger.  And there was only
the meetings tomorrow and then it would be too late for this attempt.

The last few hours had seen a Cardassian ship, a Klingon ship, and a
Federation ship work together to solve a problem.  There was something
deep inside him that liked that fact.  It felt right, as if these three
races almost belonged working together.  Yet he knew that was a very
distant, and idealistic, dream.

After a moment of pacing Riker said, "Looking for a solution to the
meetings deadlock, sir?"

Picard stopped and stared at the smiling Commander Riker.  It was as if
he'd been reading his mind. "I've been doing the same thing, sir."

"Any solutions?"

Riker's response gladdened Picard's heart.  "Yes, sir, I think I might
have an idea."

Picard moved over and sat back down, turned to face Riker in his command
chair.

"Sir," Riker said.  "I think the answer lies in the story Gowron has
been telling.  Even Admiral Jellico has been interested."

"Go on," Picard said.  His instinct told him Riker was on the right
track.

"I think we should convince Gowron to finish his story at lunch
tomorrow," Riker said.  "And in the meantime I'll talk to Geordi about
the possibility of turning Gowron's story into a holodeck program to
train Federation personnel.  See where the problems might lie."

Picard nodded.  "Interesting." He let the Riker's words sink in for a
moment, then went on.  -I knew that Gowron was telling his story for
another reason. But even I have learned things about the Klingons from
it.  It just might work as a training program."

"Exactly," Riker said.  "It might not be the diplomatic breakthrough we
had all hoped for.  But it will be a link to train Federation personnel.
And something we can take out of these meetings to point to as
progress."

"And possibly the Klingons could have a story of ours," Picard said,
smiling.  "To help them understand us."

Riker laughed.  "That, sir, would have to be one very interesting
story."

"We have them, Number One," Picard said.  "We have them."

"Sir," Data said.  "We are within range of Deep Space Nine."

"Hail them, Mister Data," Picard said.

He again stood, pulled his shirt into place, and faced the screen as
Commander Sisko's smiling face came on-screen.

"Permission to resume our position?" Picard asked.

"Granted," Sisko said.  "And welcome back."

"It's good to be back," Picard said.  And he meant it.  "I will see you
before tomorrow's meeting."

"I look forward to it," Sisko said.

"Picard out."

"Mister Data," Picard said, not turning from the main screen that now
showed the station.  Dukat's ship had moved back into a place near the
other Cardassian ship.  "Hail Gul Dukat."

"Aye, sir," Data said.

A moment later the main screen was filled with Gul Dukat's smiling face.
He was sitting in his command chair, looking very relaxed and very happy
with himself, as only a Cardassian can manage to look.

"Captain Picard," Dukat said, smiling even bigger.

"Gul Dukat," Picard said, nodding at the Cardassian.  "I would like to
officially express both my thanks and that of the Federation, for your
help in this incident."

Dukat bowed forward slightly, acknowledging what Picard said and still
smiling.  "Captain," he said.  "It was my pleasure.  I can assure you of
that."

"I have no doubt," Picard said.

Dukat laughed.  "Maybe next time my warnings will be taken seriously."

"Dukat," Picard said, ignoring the last remark.  "I would be very much
interested in discovering how you were able to follow the cloaked ship."

The Cardassian Gul laughed.  "Secrets, Picard.  A secret that must
remain with me for the moment."

Picard smiled at him.  "As you wish.  Thank you again.  Picard out."

Before the screen cut off, Dukat again nodded his acknowledgment.  And
then laughed.

Chapter Nineteen

Riker had only a moment to apologize to Dax for his hasty exit, before
the morning's session started.  During the meeting Admiral Jellico
seemed to be even more subdued and angry.  Nothing was accomplished, as
Riker had figured would happen.

But as to Gowron's story being made into a holodeck program, Geordi had
said there would be few problems and Riker had relayed the news to
Captain Picard.  He had only nodded, as if he had expected as much.

Earlier Captain Picard had met with Commander Sisko about the murder and
bombing.  He said nothing about that discussion, either.

Right before the lunch break Captain Picard had asked Gowron if he would
mind finishing his story over their food.  Gowron had readily agreed.

Riker made sure he was walking from the meeting to Quark's bar with Dax.
"Did you end up having any dinner?" she asked him as they followed
Gowron and Picard from the room.

"Not really," he said.  "Only a snack before bed."

She laughed.  "Me too."

They walked in silence for a moment.  Riker had hoped she would say
something about dinner this evening.  Captain Picard planned on having
the Enterprise stay at Deep Space Nine until tomorrow.  They had one
more night.  But so far she had said nothing. And after three attempts,
he was almost afraid to ask. They had been having such bad luck.

Finally, as they neared Quark's, he cleared his throat.  "Would you-"

"Yes," she said, quickly.  Then she laughed.  "Fourth time might be the
charm."

"It just might be," he said.

And they both laughed.

It took only a few minutes for everyone to get settled again around the
large table in the back of Quark's.  Two Klingon guards stood facing the
rest of the bar, hands behind their backs.  Lieutenant Barclay and Worf
joined them, with a special welcome from Gowron.  Riker had a sneaking
suspicion that Gowron actually liked Reg Barclay.

Quark and Rom took only a few more minutes to get the drinks and food on
the table.  After a moment it almost felt as if yesterday's events had
not happened.

Gowron looked around.  "You have been a good audience.  A storyteller
can ask for nothing more."

"Your story has kept us riveted," Captain Picard said.  "As any good
story does to an audience."

"Hear!  Hear!" Riker said.  And the rest of the table agreed.  Even
Admiral Jellico.

"Then," Gowron said, "the end of the story is at hand.  I shall get to
it."

"Night had just gripped Pok's home when we beamed down.  His mother
K'Tar greeted her warrior son as any mother would greet a son back from
war. She hugged him.  Her face shone.

"Then she nodded a thank-you to me.  But no thanks were needed.  I was
grateful that Pok had come with me.  For without his quick thinking, I
would have been dead at the hands of my enemy.

"Qua'lon entered the greeting.  Over drinks and food around their large
dining room table I told our story up to that point.  After I was
finished I could see the joy shining from K'Tar's face.

"She touched the top of her son's hand.  'Your father would be proud of
what you have done, Pok."

"'Agreed,' Qua'lon said.  "The circle of vengeance is closed.  The House
of Seplch can move on."

""The circle is not closed,' I said.  'We must still find the murderer
of Torghn."

"Qua'lon stared at me, clearly not understanding. Or so I read his
expression to mean.

"'Qua'lon killed Vok,' K'Tar said, worry filling her

eyes.  'You have killed the assassins.  Your traitorous guard is also
dead.  Who else do you expect to find?" "'We still do not know who is
behind this plot,' I said.  "The assassin said a Klingon-'

"'From an ancient house,' K'Tar said, finishing my sentence.  'It has to
be Vok.  He is of the House of Ingka.  Other than the House of Seplch,
no house on Taganika is as old.  Who else would it be?"

"'So it would seem,' I said.  'I cannot explain.  The circle does not
feel complete to me."

"'Gowron,'Qua'lon said, doing his best to comfort me.  'If you had been
able to slay him with your own hands, as I did, you might feel
different." "'Yes,' K'Tar said.  'It is finished."

"'It is not finished, K'Tar!" a woman's voice said from near the front
door.  My guards were blocking her entrance.  I recognized her as T'Var,
wife of Vok.

"She stopped her struggles with my guards and looked at me.  'I would
speak with Gowron."

"Qua'lon jumped to his feet, clearly outraged.  "The wife of the veQ who
killed my brother may not enter the House of Seplch."

"She glared at Qua'lon, then spit on the floor.  'You petaQ!  Your men
have ransacked my home.  Taken my belongings, my treasures, beaten my
son, dRacLa." "'Fitting payment,' K'Tar said, 'for what your house has
done to mine."

"'My husband was innocent,' T'Var said.  She again looked directly at
me.  'Let me speak."

"'As the head of the House of Seplch,' Qua'lon said, 'I refuse to allow
you to speak."

"'Qua'lon,' I said, my voice harsh.

"He turned to face me.

"'You are not the head of the House of SepIch.  Pok is."

"I turned to Pok, who had sat quietly through all this discussion, a
trait of his that I admired.  'Pok?" "'Let her speak,' Pok said.

"I motioned for my guard to let her enter and she came inside.  I could
tell from her look that she was not doing well.  But I gave her none of
my heart.

"Qua'lon sat down hard in his chair and roughly pushed his food plate
away from himself, spilling his drink in his show of dislike for Pok's
decision.

"'Speak, T'Var.  You say Vok was innocent.  Where is the proof you
bring?."

"'Vok had no reason to kill Torghn,' T'Var said.

""The probe was meant for me,' I said.  'Vok had many reasons to want me
dead."

"'True, Gowron,' T'Var said.  'My husband wanted you dead.  I will not
lie about that."

"I nodded to her.  'Go on."

"'My husband was no fool,' she said.  'Everyone knows what an honorable
man Torghn was.  He would never allow a guest, the head of the High
Council of all guests, to be killed in his house.  Think of the
dishonor.  He would die first.  As he did."

"'If a man wanted my husband dead,' K'Tar said, almost as if she were
thinking out loud, 'he could aim at you, Gowron, and know my husband
would take the death himself."

"'And we would look for the man who would

murder me." As if a light had been turned on in a dark room, the problem
made sense to me.

"I turned to Pok.  'Who knew your father well enough to know this, Pok?
And who would gain the most from Torghn's death?"

"He and I both glanced around the room.  "The House of Seplch is an
ancient house, too.  Is there a murderer among us.  Pok?"'

Gowron stared at Barclay, who once again seemed to be caught by surprise
at Gowron's attention.  He glanced at Riker, then at the captain.  Both
showed no sign of expression, so he turned back to Gowron.

"I- I-I don't unders-s-stand?"

"Have you been listening?" Gowron asked.  "Or just eating?"

"L-L-Listening, sir," Barclay said, glancing down at his mostly full
plate of salad.

"Well then," Gowron said, pushing his empty dish away and leaning
forward.  "Who would Pok accuse?

Anyone?  Who wanted Torghn of the House of SepIch dead?"

"Y-y-you certainly did not," Barclay said.

Gowron laughed.  "You speak the truth.  I would have nothing to gain
from Torghn's death.  He was my ally in that area of the Empire." Gowron
pulled out his knife and twisted it in his hands.

Then he stuck it into the table in front of Barclay, causing the
lieutenant suddenly to scoot back away from the table.

"And if I did want him dead, I would have killed him in open view.  That
is my way."

Barclay nodded, never taking his gaze off the knife stuck in front of
him.

After a moment Riker felt bad for Barclay's tension. He leaned to the
side and whispered to him, "Who else in that room might have done it?"

Gowron smiled at Barclay as he looked up into his eyes.  "H-H-His wife
would also have I'm-no reason to kill her husband."

Gowron nodded.  "Again correct.  And if Pok had accused his own mother
she would have drawn her knife, like I just did, and given it to her
son.  She would have told him to fulfill his blood oath.  Then she would
have offered her chest.  But I never would have let him kill her.

"W-why?" Barclay asked.

"Honor," Gowron said.  "Dishonor would have fallen on Pok's house for
ten generations.  The House of Seplch would have disappeared from
memory. That would not be the way."

Barclay nodded.  "V-V-Vok's wife T'Var was also in the room."

Gowron nodded.  "She was.  But she would have no more reason to kill
Torghn than her husband.  And she never would have done so."

"Then," Barclay said.  "Qua'lon, Torghn's brother, is all that is left.
Did he do it?"

Gowron held up his hand.  "You jump ahead of the story, my friend." But
that is the same conclusion that Pok came to that evening.

Gowron finished his ale, then held up his glass. "Blood wine, Ferengi!"
He shouted across the bar.  "I am about to finish a story.  This
water-filled ale will not do."

Riker glanced down at his plate.  He had been so focused on listening to
Gowron's story, he had forgotten to finish his salad.  He took another
bite and then pushed it aside.  He wanted his attention on Gowron's
story.

Even Admiral Jellico seemed to be taking the break in the story as a
chance to finish lunch.  If Captain Picard took his suggestion and
proposed this story as a Holodeck training program, it would be
wonderful. And very useful.  Riker decided right at that moment that he
would even offer to help on the production of such a program if it
happened.

Quark served the glass of blood wine to Gowron. He took a long drink,
then sighed.  "Storytelling is best done with blood wine.  It is my
rule.  And a good one."

Around the table all laughed.

Gowron turned to Barclay.  "I told you Pok looked at Qua'lon, then
pointed to him in response to my question."

Barclay nodded.

"Good," Gowron said.  "Now I will tell you what happened next."

"'You accuse me!" Qua'lon shouted at Pok, standing and tipping his chair
over in his anger.  'Of killing my own brother!  Why?  I gain nothing."

"I answered for Pok.  'Nothing." I said.  'Unless Pok were also dead.
Then you would become the head of the House of Seplch."

"'I deny it!" Qua'lon shouted.  I could tell that at that moment he
wanted to come over the table and kill me.  And his nephew.  His honor
had been questioned.

"'A charge has been made,' I said.  'You must offer proof of your
innocence."

"Qua'lon glanced at those of us staring at him. Then he said, 'I will
offer proof.  I challenge my accuser to a vItHay'.  A test of
innocence." "'Or guilt,' I added.

"'Oh, no,' K'Tar said.

"I turned to Pok.  'You have made this accusation of

your uncle.  You must accept his challenge."

"Pok nodded.

"I slapped him on the shoulder.

"Qua'lon stood and started to leave.  'My men will see that the chamber
is prepared."

"I stood quickly and blocked his way.  'No!" I said in his face.  'My
men will see to it."

"I turned to my guards.  'Do so."

"Qua'lon stared at me but made no move to challenge me.  At that moment
he was thinking.  For I would have gladly killed him where he stood.

"Barclay," Gowron said.  "Do you know what a vItHay'is?  And how it is
performed?"

Barclay shook his head no.

Gowron turned to Riker.  "Do you?"

"I do not, sir," Riker said.

Gowron glanced at first Worf, then at Commander Sisko who shook his head
no.  Then he turned to Captain Picard.  "I know you do."

Captain Picard nodded, but said nothing as Gowron turned back to
Barclay.

"vItHay', a ritual challenge, is issued by an accused against the man
doing the accusing.  It proves who is guilty.  Or who is not.  It is a
fight to the death."

"B-b-but how could a fight prove innocence or guilt?" Barclay asked.

Captain Picard jumped in before Gowron could answer.  "Lieutenant,
Klingons believe that in mortal combat the honorable fighter, and the
fighter on the side of the truth in a situation, is always victorious."

"Correct, Captain," Gowron said, beaming at Picard.  "The truth will
always have more strength than a lie.  More inner strength.  We live by
such thoughts every moment.  Every day."

Worf said, "He is right."

Riker glanced at Admiral Jellico, who seemed to be thinking very much
about Gowron's last statement. Riker just hoped that if Gowron finally
got through to the admiral, it would not be too late to make a
difference.

Barclay nodded that he understood, so Gowron continued.

"The ritual chamber has a fire in the center.  The combatants are
dressed in ritual fighting robes.  Those

of us who watch form a circle.  Pok and Qua'lon would fight within the
circle of warriors."

Gowron took a drink, then looked again at Barclay and smiled.  "I will
ask you no more questions.  But I must first explain the weapons of this
ritual.  Pok had the first choice of weapons, since his charge had been
made, then denied.  He chose a battLell.  He might have picked up a
knife, but Qua'lon would have beaten him easily with a battLell.  Or he
also might have chosen to fight with only his hands.  A stupid choice."

Gowron took another long drink of his blood wine. "Qua'lon thought this
fight to be an easy one.  He did not know how much Torghn had trained
his son in fighting.  He did not also know how much Pok had grown inside
in just the few days with seasoned warriors.  The fight was very even."

Suddenly Kira's voice broke into the story.  "Red alert!  Commander
Sisko to Ops."

Around them the lights in the bar turned to a blinking red.  Everywhere
Starfleet officers scrambled for the door.  All at the table with Gowron
remained seated for the moment.

Sisko tapped his badge as he stood.  "What is happening?."

Kira's voice came back strong enough for all to hear.

"Sir," she said.  "We have just had six Klingon Birds of Prey decloak.
They have shields up and are in attack formation."

Almost as a unit the group stood and headed quickly for the door across
an already mostly empty bar.

Behind them Riker heard Quark say, "There goes another lunch profit."

Chapter Twenty

LuRSA GLANCED OVER at her sister at the weapons console.  B'Etor nodded
back.  Good.  They were in position.  Now they must wait.  This would be
the hardest part.

She sat back and focused on the screen in front of her.  The Enterprise
had moved slightly away from the station into a more defensible
position.  Very smart.

Gowron's flagship and the Botka also moved away and had powered up its
weapons.

The station had gone to full alert status and had shields up.  That was
the important fact.  With the shields up, they could not beam Gowron off
the station.  If they tried she would have him again.

A simple plan.  Bold.

And on Federation territory.

She laughed to herself.  If the Federation lost the

head of the High Council, it would bring anger against the Federation.
That anger was exactly what the House of Duras needed.  A fight.  A true
reason to bring the Klingon Empire back to its glory.

"All ships are in position," B'Etor said.  "All weapons are fully
charged.  Transporters stand ready."

"Good," Lursa said.  "Now make sure no one moves unless I give the
order."

"Done," B'Etor said a moment later.  She nodded to another to take her
place and moved up beside her sister.  "How long will they wait?"

"I do not know," Lursa said.  "But I hope not long enough for
reinforcements to arrive."

B'Etor laughed.  "That would be a problem," she said.

Lursa said nothing.  It was the only problem with her plan.  Too many
reinforcements would cause her to run.  But she still had something
extra.  She still had someone on the station.

dRacLa, son of Vok, moved along the corridor as if he were in a hurry to
get to his station.  The other Klingons on the Federation station would
be doing the same.  All would be heading to beam-out positions.

But the flashing red lights along the corridor signaled that the entire
station was on red alert.  No one would be beaming out.  Lursa and her
sister had the station under hostage.  Now he had time to move.

If he knew Gowron, he would make every effort to get back to his ship.
Gowron knew he could not do

that from Ops.  He had to go to another place.  dRacLa would catch him
on the way.

If Gowron did not move from Ops, dRacLa would catch him in another
manner.

Either way Gowron would die.  dRacLa knew he too would probably die. But
killing Gowron would complete the cycle of his blood oath.  An oath he
had taken as a child, the day his father died.

dRacLa, son of Vok, was prepared to die.

Riker immediately studied the screen as they entered Ops.  Dax and Sisko
went to their stations. Gowron, Captain Picard, Worf, Admiral Jellico,
and he stood above the rail.

"Report, Major," Commander Sisko said as he strolled to his position in
the middle of Ops.

"Six Klingon Birds of Prey have decloaked.  They have powered up full
weapons and have them targeted on the station.  The Enterprise has moved
into a defensive position.  Gowron's flagship and the Botka have also
moved into defensive positions."

Sisko nodded and did a quick survey of the stations and the people he
had.  Riker was impressed at the man's calmness under pressure.

He finished his quick survey and faced the main screen again.  "It seems
we have a standoff.  Have we called for help?"

"Yes, sir," Kira said.  "The Homet is six hours away.  The Merrimac is
ten.  Gowron's ship also called for reinforcements.  I estimate their
arrival at eight hours."

"Lursa," Gowron said, staring at the ships on the screen.  "I have
underestimated that woman too many times.  I did not expect this."

Sisko turned around and looked at Gowron.  Riker and Captain Picard did
the same.

"If you know what's going on," Sisko said.  "I wish you would explain it
to the rest of us."

:,Yes, explain," Admiral Jellico said.

'Lursa and her sister are responsible," he said. "That much is clear.  I
also think they were on that other ship yesterday."

:,Is this a civil war?" Sisko asked.

'No." Gowron said.  He looked at Sisko.  "Not yet. But I am in your
house." Gowron spread his arms to take in Ops and the rest of the
station.  "I am in Federation territory.  If I die here, your inability
to protect me will be considered an insult against the Klingon Empire."

"The same as in your story," Riker said.  "Torghn giving his life to
save yours in his home."

:'That story tells much," Gowron said.

'And we might have a full war," Picard said.  "And with you dead there
would be no stopping it."

"But they have no way of getting you here," Sisko said, "as long as the
shields remain up.  We can simply wait them out."

"If they also wait," Gowron said.  "But that would be a stupid thing for
Lursa to do.  She is not stupid."

:,Then they will attack," Picard said.

"They will attack," Gowron said.  "But the question is how?  Where?"

"And when," Picard said.

"And when," Gowron agreed.

Riker glanced around at Ops.  Everything and everyone seemed to be in
position and ready.  Commander Sisko stood calmly in the center.  Major
Kira fidgeted at the weapons board.  Dax stood calmly at the science
station.

Now the question was, who moved next?

To Riker's surprise, it was Captain Picard.

Chapter Twenty-one

CAPTAIN PICARD TURNED to Gowron.  "Let me see if I understand this
situation correctly.  If the station drops its shiblds, Lursa will beam
everyone in Ops onto her ship, assuming one of those captured would be
you."

"What?" Sisko asked, turning and moving to the rail.

Gowron nodded.  "She took us once before in the same fashion.  She knew
I would be transporting the minute the station's shields were dropped
after the meeting time.  She was smart.  She would know that I have come
to this location now.  She would take everyone in this area of the
station.  Kill all of us."

Picard nodded.  He had figured that might be the case.  It was the only
factor that made sense.  Lursa and her sister were gambling that either
he or Gowron

would attempt to transport back to their respective ships.  And if Lursa
and her force had to wait too long, they would pound the station until
the shields dropped and then do the same thing.  Again logical.

"Then we need to get you off this bridge," Sisko said.  "And you too,
Admiral."

"Thank you, Commander," Gowron said.  "I doubt it would help the
situation.  There are at least twenty Klingons on the station at this
moment, plus many thousands of others.  I am sure Lursa has enough spies
here to keep her informed as to my location." He glanced around.  "I
would rather stay here.  Where I trust who is behind me."

Sisko smiled.  "I honor your request, sir," he said.

Gowron bowed slightly in thanks.

"I will stay, also," Admiral Jellico said.  "It is my place here, beside
our guest."

Gowron nodded Jellico's way, a look of slight surprise on his face.

Picard also was surprised, but he did not show it. He still hadn't got
the answer he was looking for. "Gowron, what would happen if we forced
Lursa's hand?  What if we brought in reinforcements earlier than
expected?"

"She would attack the station before they arrived," Gowron said.  "I am
certain.  She hopes to force the shields down.  All her efforts will be
to that end."

"Does she have the force?" Picard asked.  He was familiar with the
station's defenses.  And with the power of the Birds of Preys, but he
wanted Gowron's opinion.

"Yes." Gowron said, glancing at Commander Sisko, almost as if he was
apologizing for insulting the station.  "She has the power to do so in a
very short period."

"What if the Enterprise and your two ships," Picard asked, "placed
themselves between her ships and the station?  Would that have an
effect?"

"Six against three." Gowron smiled.  "It would slow her effort
considerably, if our ships could remain in positions between hers and
the station.  And it would cause her much damage.  She does not like to
lose ships.  I know that much of her.  Ships are her power in the
Empire."

Captain Picard turned to Commander Sisko.  "How far away is Gul Dukat?"
Beside him Picard heard Gowron draw in a sharp breath, then snort in
disgust.

Sisko turned to Major Kira.  "Major?"

"They are back in Cardassian territory," she said, checking her
long-range scans.  Then she looked up at Commander Sisko.  "They could
return in forty minutes."

Sisko turned to Gowron and Picard.

"You would have Cardassians save us?" Gowron said.  Picard could hear
the disgust in his voice. "Yesterday was bad enough.  Must I be so
shamed again?"

"These Klingon ships threaten a Federation station, Gowron," Picard
said.  "I would call them.  Not you."

"And what honor is in that?" Gowron said.

"What honor is in not defending our guests?"

Picard snapped back.  "In any fashion we can."

Gowron stared at Picard for a moment, then suddenly laughed.  "Picard.
You know us too well."

Picard nodded.  He knew that with a little logic he would win that
argument with Gowron.  Gowron's own story had given Picard the
ammunition.  Now, would Gul Dukat return?  That was another question
again.

dRacLa had quickly discovered there was no way for one person to watch
Ops without being actually in Ops.  Gowron could have gone anywhere. His
plan was useless.  So he had immediately switched to his backup plan. He
would bring the shields down himself and trust that Lursa could find
Gowron, wherever the animal hid.

He moved along the corridor now toward engineering.  He had studied this
area of the station carefully from old Cardassian plans.  He knew
exactly where two timed charges would cause a cascade effect, cutting
all power to shields.  He had already planted one charge.  He was a
short twenty paces from where he need to place the second when a voice
said, "Stop there."

Without an instant's hesitation, he pulled his weapon, spun, and fired.

A man in a brown-and-tan uniform stood in the middle of the corridor.
Two Federation officers flanked him.  Both had their weapons drawn.

dRacLa's first disrupter shot caught one guard and he went over
backward.

The guard second fired his phaser, barely missing dRacLa.  The man in
brown simply stood still.

Quickly dRacLa dove around the corner and another phaser shot brushed
his boot.

"Security," a voice behind him said.  "Seal off the corridor outside
engineering."

Ahead a security shield shimmered into being.  Just inside where he
needed to place the charge.  He had failed.  That much was clear.  But
he would not die alone.

He ducked into a dead-end side corridor and blew a hole in the lock of a
door there.  Quickly he went inside what appeared to be some sort of
office.  There was no way out.  He did not expect there to be.

He leaned back out the door and fired a shot up the corridor as a
warning.  Then pulling out the explosive in his pack, he took the one
large ball and rolled it into smaller ones.  These would keep him alive
awhile longer.  Maybe just long enough to be rescued.

Or long enough to kill a few Federation dogs.

Then with a flick of a switch, he blew the first explosive he'd planted.

Riker watched as the comm line blinked and Major Kira studied her board.
Then she looked up at Commander Sisko.  "Sir.  Shots have been fired in
the engineering section.  Odo reports they have cornered a Klingon
there.  He believes it to be the one whom he saw talking to the Yridian
trader who set the bomb."

"dRacLa," Gowron said softly, never taking his eyes off the main screen
in front of him.

Suddenly the lights blinked, then held.

"What was that?" Sisko demanded.

Without looking up from her board, Major Kira said, "There was an
explosion in engineering, sir.  One coupling was destroyed.  No other
damage."

"All energy rerouted," Dax said.  "Everything is again stable."

Sisko nodded and glanced back at Captain Picard.

Riker let out the breath he was holding.  That had been a close call. If
the blast had taken out two power couplings, the shields would have
failed for a short time.  Not long, but long enough for Lursa and her
sister to beam them all out of here.

"It seems it is time to act," Picard said.

Sisko nodded.

Picard tapped his comm badge.  "Picard to Enterprise."

"Go ahead, Captain," Data's voice came back strong.

"Send out a call to Gul Dukat.  Patch it through there to me here."

"Yes, sir." Data said.

"And Data, when I am finished, move the Enterprise to a position between
the threatening Klingon ships and the station."

"Aye, sir."

A moment later Data came back.  "Go ahead, sir."

"Gul Dukat," Picard said.  "Captain Picard here.  I apologize for not
being able to make thy request visually."

"I understand," Dukat said, "That you have a somewhat troublesome
situation."

Picard smiled.  "We do."

"And are you asking for my help?" Dukat said.

Riker could almost hear Dukat's voice mocking them.  Just like the
Cardassians.  They would never make a situation easier.

Picard shook his head.  He took a deep breath.  "Yes, Dukat," Picard
said.  "I am."

"On my way," Dukat said.  "Out."

Picard shook his head and turned to Gowron.  "My friend, dealing with
the Cardassians is difficult.  For all of us."

"And very seldom worth the trouble," Gowron said.

Riker hoped this time he was wrong.

Chapter Twenty-two

LuRSA ALMOST JUMPED OUt of the command chair.  "Do these dogs have no
pride?  They call to Cardassians for help.  They have no shame."

"The Enterprise is moving into a position between us and the station,"
B'Etor said.  "And Gowron is contacting his ships.  This is not as we
had planned."

There was silence on the bridge for a moment, then B'Etor glanced up.
"He has ordered them to do the same as the Enterprise.  They will block
us."

Lursa dropped back into the chair.  An attack against the station now
would be very costly.  And with the Cardassians on their way, there was
no more time to wait.  She turned to her sister.  "Are you sure of that
explosion on the station?"

B'Etor nodded.  "It was in the engineering section. It failed to cut the
power to their shields."

Lursa nodded.  dRacLa had failed, also.  This day did not appear to be
hers.

She turned to her sister.  "There will be another day," she said.

B'Etor looked as if she was about to object, then glanced up at the main
screen and nodded.  "You are right, Sister.  There will be another day.
And I hope that day includes the death of the Enterprise."

"We will work for it," Lursa said.  "That much I promise." She sat back
in the command chair and studied the scene one more time.  Gowron's two
ships were moving into a position between her and the station, flanking
the Enterprise.  Her six ships against those three.  She might win
quickly.  But she might win slowly.  There wasn't time enough to take
that chance.

It was over.

"Order the ships to cloak and return home."

"Yes, Sister," B'Etor said.

"There will be another day," she said to the screen and the Enterprise.
"There will."

"They are cloaking and going into warp," Major Kira said.

Riker could easily hear the relief and excitement in her voice.  The
same feeling he was experiencing.  He glanced over at Dax.  She looked
up and returned his smile.

"They have run," Gowron said.

"It is over," Admiral Jellico said.

Riker could also hear the huge relief in the Admiral's voice.  He
couldn't blame him.

"No!" Gowron said.  "It is not quite over.  There is still a
KJingoncornered like a trapped animal in your engineering section.  Am I
right?"

Commander Sisko turned to Major Kira, who nodded.

"It is a Klingon.  I think this might be a situation best handled by my
men." Gowron turned to Commander Sisko.  "If I have your permission,
sir?"

Sisko frowned, then nodded.  "Of course."

Gowron turned to the others along the rail.  "If you would like to
accompany me, I will take care of this situation and then we can have
our last meeting."

Admiral Jellico nodded.

Riker had no idea what Gowron had in mind.  But there was no way he was
going to miss it.

Twenty minutes later Riker, Commander Sisko, Captain Picard, Worf, and
Admiral Jellico stood with Chancellor Gowron a safe distance down the
corridor from where the Klingon was trapped.  Six Federation guards
crouched along one wall.  Odo, Dsq's chief of security, stood in the
hall near the junction.

Gowron had called for five members of his crew to beam aboard.  He was
now talking to one tall warrior guard.

After a moment the guard nodded, then stepped down the hall past the
Federation guards as if he was walking through a safe park.  Riker was
amazed at his courage.

The guard got to the junction to the small dead-end corridor and
stopped.  "dRacLa, son of Vok," he

called up the corridor.  "If you are to die honorably, now is the time.
I will honor your blood challenge."

Riker glanced at Picard who looked as puzzled as Riker felt.  What was
going on?  This made no sense.

"How do I know you will not cut me down when I step forward?" A loud
voice came from down the hall. Obviously the voice of the trapped
Klingon.

"You have my word, as a warrior," the guard said.

Gowron leaned over to Commander Sisko and said in a moderately loud
voice, "It would be good if you had your men step back out of sight."

Sisko nodded and motioned for Odo to do what Gowron suggested.  The
Federation officers retreated.

Riker watched as the guard at the junction opened his arms, showing
someone down the hall that he had not drawn his gun.

"I could cut you down like so much meat," the unseen Klingon said.

"There would be no honor in that," the guard said. He pulled out his
knife and crouched.

A moment later another Klingon lunged at him from the side hall.  The
guard stepped aside and the lunge missed.

Crouched, the two circled each other, making slashing motions but
drawing no blood.

"dRacLa, son of Vok," Gowron said softly.  "I was right."

Picard glanced at him, then nodded.

Riker had seen many fights, but for some reason this one held him
spellbound.  Seeing the son of a

person from Gowron's story gave the fight extra meaning.

The first blood was drawn by the guard.  He slashed the other's arm.

"You are good," dRacLa said, ignoring the cut on his arm.

The guard nodded, but did not respond.

They continued to circle in the small corridor, waiting, watching for
the opening that would allow the other to make the fatal thrust.

It did not take long.  dRacLa lunged at what he saw as an opening.

The guard moved aside, very light on his feet for such a large man. Then
he caught dRacLa with an upward thrust.  The knife went in solidly and
Riker could hear dRacLa's breath burst from him.

The guard held him there, suspended on his knife for a moment, then
pulled the knife out suddenly.

dRacLa slumped to the ground.  With only a glance up at the guard
standing over him, he died.

Gowron nodded.  "Now, it is finished." He moved down the hall and
slapped the guard on the back.

The other Klingons did the same.  They all ignored the body on the
floor.

The guard returned his knife to his belt, and Gowron, his arm around the
shoulder of the guard, came back down the hall.  Riker could not
remember ever seeing such a happy, almost fatherly proud smile on
Gowron's face.

Then, as if by a sudden bolt, Riker understood.

"My friends," Gowron said.  "I am now proud to say that my long story
has a finish.  Admiral Jellico. Commander Sisko.  Captain Picard.
Commander Riker.  Lieutenant Worf This is Pok, son of Torghn. My first
officer."

Captain Picard stuck out his hand, smiling.  "I am honored."

And as far as Riker was concerned, the captain spoke for all of them.

Epilogue

DiNMR.

The meal in Quark's had been superb.  Now they sipped their brandy and
relaxed.  Around them the normal nightly activity of Quark's had come up
to full speed.  But somehow it seemed to avoid their table, as if they
were sitting in their own private bubble.

Riker wasn't exactly sure why the meal had tasted so good.  Possibly
because he and Dax were finally allowed to finish a meal together.  Or
more likely it had been her company.  And her laughs.  He loved it when
she laughed.

And when she smiled.

And when she just looked at him.

Just a plain enjoyable meal.  In fact, at the moment he could not
remember a meal being so enjoyable. Tender roast Jibetian duckling.
Crisp young sprouts.

The finest of Quark's brandy.  He held the memory of the flavors like a
treasured gem.  He would not soon let go of them.

"You are just sitting there smiling," Dax said.  "A personal joke?  Or a
private thought?"

"It's you," Riker said, leaning forward to get a little closer to her.
"For some reason you make me smile."

"Thank you, kind sir," she said, raising her glass. They toasted each
other and he sipped his brandy again, letting the smooth, smoky flavor
coat his mouth.

"I hear you volunteered to help set up the holodeck program, Dax said.
"Is that true?"

"Very true," Riker said.  "And I'm looking forward to it."

That afternoon, at the last meeting, Captain Picard had suggested that
Gowron's story of Pok be used as a Federation holodeck program to teach
Federation personnel about Klingon customs and culture.

Gowron had loved the idea.  No hesitations.

But Admiral Jellico had been a tougher sell.  Finally Gowron had offered
to be scanned for inclusion in this program and that had swung the
admiral.  It would be a very worthwhile project.  Of that, Riker had no
doubt.

"Well," Dax said, glancing over her glass of brandy at Riker.  "What
would you like to do now, Commander?  It seems we have some time free."

Riker smiled at her devil-may-care look.  Just at that moment a cheer
exploded from the Dabo table.  He glanced that way, then looked back at
her.  He could

feel the intense grin on his face, and for some reason

he had no desire to tone it down.

"First off," he said.  "I would love to play Dabo.  I have a feeling I
just might break Quark's bank."

Dax raised her eyebrows.  "You must really feel

lucky tonight."

He reached across the table and took her hand.

Then, smiling, he asked, "Don't you?"

THE MAKING OF

STAR TREK: KLINGON.

by

David Mack

introduction

The choice of the irascible but always highly honorable warrior race
known as the Klingons to be the stars of the latest innovation in CD-ROM
entertainment from Simon and Schuster Interactive was no accident, no
simple coincidence.

Ever since their first TV appearance in the 1960s original series
episode, "Errand of Mercy," the Klingons have captivated the
imaginations of Star Trek fans everywhere.  They returned in such
memorable episodes as "The Trouble with Tribbles" and "Day of the Dove,"
among others, and were the first denizens of the Star Trek universe to
greet fans at the beginning of the series' big-screen debut, Star Trek.-
The Motion Picture.

The Klingons took on true depth during the phenomenally successful
seven-year run of Star Trek.- The Next Generation, fueled by the
overwhelming popularity of Michael Dom's Lieutenant Worf.  With a
Klingon protagonist as a regular character, fans were at long last
treated to an up-close and personal look at the rituals and traditions
of the Klingon people.  And with Dom's Worf keeping the Klingon mystique
going strong on Star Trek.- Deep Space Nine and Roxann Biggs-Dawson's
half-Klingon engineer, B'Elanna Torres, carrying the torch on Star
Trek.- Voyager, it's a sure bet that the legend of the Klingons is just
getting started.

So, having spread their Empire through the Alpha Quadrant, four
television series, and six of the seven Star Trek films as well as
countless comic books and novels, the Klingons now have conquered the
newest media frontier-the interactive CD-ROM.

The creation of an interactive CD-ROM, particularly one as sophisticated
and revolutionary as the Star Trek.- Klingon!  CD-ROM, is no easy task.
It involves the coordinated effort of a great many people working
together for many months, and sometimes years, to produce the final
product; the best way to understand the origins and history of the
Klingon!

CD-ROM is to hear it in the words of the people who made it happen.

Preproduction

Like all great accomplishments, the Klingon!  CDROM was born from an
idea.  And the author of that 'Idea was its executive producer, Keith
Halper.

"The idea came out in a title meeting that we had nearly two years ago,"
Halper recalled.  "We wanted to create a suitable follow-up to the Star
Trek.- The Next Generation: Interactive Technical Manual (Simon and
Schuster Interactive's best-selling "virtual tour" of the Starship
Enterprise 1701-D, which Halper also produced).  To match the success of
the Interactive Technical Manual, this new CD-ROM would have to be
authentic and visually rivetting, and take the medium to bold new
places.  That's what Star Trek fans demand.  Unlike the technical
manual, however, we wanted this CD-ROM to use characters and plot and
high action: We wanted it to have the feel of an interactive television
episode.

"When we did the Interactive Technical Manual, one of the things we
learned was that an interactive product allows us to explore in detail
things which can be presented only superficially in a linear format,"
Halper explained.  "For example, when we see Picard's quarters in an
episode, we see it for maybe ten seconds and it just flashes by. There's
a lot of detail in that room.  The books on the shelves were chosen with
care.  We know that Picard reads the British empiricists and the German
rationalists, like

Kant.  That's the kind of stuff you can't see in an episode, but it adds
to the flavor of the room.  In an interactive product we allow you to
wander around and explore the space and learn more about these people
and see some of the more subtle details, maybe learn something new about
them that wouldn't have been possible in another way.

It was obvious to me that "this story have to be about the Klingons.
When we first saw the Klingons, we got to know them only superficially.
They were this violent, aggressive, warlike species, and there's really
nothing very good about them.  That's pretty much all we ever saw of
them in the original series....  During Star Trek.- The Next Generation
we came to know a lot more about them.  Through Worf, we get to see that
they're actually this noble, honorable race, and that their warlike
tendencies actually have a logical basis and form the root of their
culture. But that's the kind of stuff that we learn only over time and
upon examination.

" We thought that in an interactive product, we could again allow users
to do something analogous to wandering around the rooms-that we could
allow users to wander around in their culture, to understand the books
that are on their cultural shelves, and to understand who they are in a
more profound way.

"So, for instance, when you're wandering around in the living room and
stop and click on a statue, and the Klingon computer voice talks with
reverence about the intertwining circles of the fulfilled and
unfulfilled blood oaths on the statue, the blood-oath circles,

that's really interesting and that says something kind of profound about
the Klingons that you haven't seen in an episode.  There isn't time in
an episode to go into this kind of detail.  In an interactive program,
we can put tons of detail in there and allow users to poke around and
find it and teach themselves."

With the focus set firmly on Klingons, the next step in the genesis of
the Klingon-themed CD-ROM was to develop a story that would form the
core of a complete "Klingon-immersion experience." And after that would
come a teleplay-one unlike any written before.

"Liz Braswell, my associate editor, and I conceived originally of a sort
of Hamlet-like story in which there were two brothers who were fighting
over a kingdom," Halper said.  "One of the brothers is killed and then
his son avenges him.  Of course, we know that a Klingon Hamlet wouldn't
be troubled by all kinds of indecision like a human Hamlet.

"Keith ...  got the idea and I helped write one of the original scripts
for it when we were still trying to decide how to do this
'choose-your-own-adventure' style of computer game," Braswell added.
"There were several evenings where we were on our hands and knees,
writing up dialogue, cutting and pasting it on on the floor to show
where different story threads went."

From that spark the torch was lit and passed to the husband-and-wife
writing partnership of Kristine Katherine Rusch and Dean Wesley Smith.
Rusch is the author of more than twenty novels and currently

serves as editor of the renowned Magazine offantasy and Science Fiction.
She received the 1994 Hugo Award winner for Best Professional Editor for
her work at F&SF.  Smith has authored fourteen novels and numerous short
stories, and was the winner of the World Fantasy Award in 1989.

"We did the story that inspired the script, and now we are doing a
novelization of the script, in which Gowron initially tells the story of
Pok in Quark's bar," Smith said.  "From that telling, the Federation
decides to set up the holodeck program, and Gowron agrees to take part."

Rusch and Smith's story was only the first step in a long process of
rewriting that would continue even during production.

"Essentially, we handed Hilary Bader this big pile of storylines and
outlines and sketches and said, 'Oh, by the way, Hilary, we need a
script in three weeks because we have to start building sets,"' Halper
remembered with a grin.  "And Hilary really rose to the task.  Hilary's
wonderful.  She's done probably a half-dozen episodes of the various
Star Treks.  She was recommended to me by Suzie Domnick of Paramount
Licensing: She was experienced and could come through in a pinch.  And
Hilary did come through."

"The writing was unusually rushed," Bader recalled.  "There wasn't a lot
of time for endless rewriting.  I wrote the first draft, which went to
Ron Moore [Ronald D.  Moore, Deep Space Nine producer and Star Trek
Generations scriptwriter] for comments. Ron came in with a lot of ideas
for changes.  Unfortunately I didn't have a lot of time to implement
them.  I knew I couldn't have a second draft done by the first day of
shooting without rushing through it and I didn't want to do that.  So I
made sure Director Jonathan Frakes had the first two days' worth of
script before the shooting began, then I was able to finish the rewrites
on the rest of the script while they were shooting the first few days.

"Because there are always problems with a script that don't become
obvious until you are shooting it, I was on the set the entire time,"
Bader added.  "If there was a problem, something I wrote couldn't be
shot a certain way, or Jonathan Frakes wanted to include some character
in the scene who wasn't written in, he'd ask for an on-the-spot rewrite.

"I have to say, the two weeks of shooting was the most fun I've ever had
in Hollywood," Bader confided.  "I felt much closer to this project than
I have to anything else I've ever written."

"Hilary has a natural affinity for interactive scriptwriting," Halper
said with genuine admiration.  "She developed a scripting format-because
one didn't exist-which we undoubtedly will use on future projects.  It
really worked, because it was something that told our programmers what
they needed to know, and at the same time it looks a lot like a film
script.  Now, we're going through a traditional production process, so
we needed something that [the production crew] knew how to work with. We
didn't want to surprise the guy doing opticals or the people setting up
lighting.  They need to look at a script and say, 'Well, it

doesn't really hang together because the scenes don't read
chronologically, but I can follow these instructions." And I thought it
was just brilliant.

"In addition to that," Halper continued, "Hilary has a very light touch;
she's very funny and she breathed life into these characters.  I can't
credit her enough; I think that she did a lot in a very critical
situation."

But while the writers and producers toiled over the glamorous task of
penning the script, the project's technical experts and developers were
being coordinated by associate producer Elizabeth Braswell. There was a
Language Lab CD-ROM to be developed and new technologies to be explored
before this ground-breaking endeavor could begin production.

At the top of the list for new technology was the Duck Corp's innovative
offering, TrueMotion, the latest advance in full-screen, full-motion
video, which Duck's Stan Marder describes as "a set of algorithms to
compress video and audio where the resulting playback equals or exceeds
what the average consumer sees on television....  Except it has the
digital attributes so that you can, for instance, 'branch' the video,
which you can't do any other way, and you can add all kinds of
functionality to make the video itself totally interactive."

Duck also developed another new technology in tandem with TrueMotion,
called comprending.  "It's an amalgam of two words, and it means
'compression rendering,"' Marder explained.  "What it allows you to do
is real-time compositing on the fly.  What we

bring to the table is the ability for the end user to manipulate the
comprended image on his own."

Marder offered an example of what that means: "In the movie Forrest
Gump, when Tom Hanks goes over and shakes hands with Kennedy, we know
that didn't really happen.  When we watch this, we sit passively and
watch that happen.  We don't control Tom Hanks's movement.  Comprending
allows a developer to create in his program the ability to control the
actors, control what is happening on the screen-in other words, move
video around independently.

"So what we allow the developer to do is create a video and then
manipulate that video over other video.  It's a very powerful technology
in the right hands.  You can do amazing things with it." Comprending
also allows "hot zones"-layers of digital information that will prompt a
response on the screen from the "video sprite" cursor to alert users
that there are data to be found.

Another scientific advance critical to the Klingon!

CD-ROM was the development of a speechrecognition system that would be
able to help teach users to speak Klingon-which is a far more daunting
proposal than it might sound.  For that, Simon and Schuster Interactive
looked to Dragon Systems, one of the world's leading developers of
voice-recognition software, and its resident Klingon-language
specialist, Mark Mandel.

"When Liz and Keith were looking for people to do the speech recognition
for the Klingon!  CD project," Mandel said, "Shawn True, who is
adminstratively in

charge of this end of the project here at Dragon, told me that when he
was asked by Liz if we would be interested in that, and he was able to
answer off handedly that we had a major Klingon linguist on our staff,
he could hear her jaw hit the floor.

"As it happens, I am a linguist-a language scientist-and a
science-fiction fan.  And I've been studying and playing with the
Klingon language for about three years or so.  So I got a great kick out
of it."

Armed with cutting-edge science and their own enthusiasm, Mandel and his
colleagues took on the Herculean task of developing the core software of
the Klingon!  CD's Language Lab.  "This wasn't just a Klingon recognizer
we were developing," Mandel explained.  "The purpose of a normal
recognizer is to take speech input to direct some activity or to put a
word on the screen and eventually on paper or fax or whatever....  The
Klingon system had things turned around because our mandate for this
system was to create a pronunciation tester.  Every time you say a word,
it knows what word you're supposed to be saying.  And the objective is
to correct your pronunciation.

I 6 So that meant we knew the word you were trying to say.  But I had to
figure out how to detect mispronunciations-and, furthermore, do so in an
intelligent way.  We'd never been faced with that sort of an issue
before and we did not have the time of the resources-either in terms of
money, personnel, or native speakers-to do this the proper way....  What
we did was try to anticipate ways people might

mispronounce a word.  So what we did was record various kinds of
anticipated mispronunciations, along with the correct pronunciations. So
our speakers had to produce not only correct Klingon pronunciations, but
also mispronunciations, things that they've spent years learning how not
to do.  And as the experienced Klingon speakers told me after their
recording sessionsi that was the hardest part-getting the
mispronunciations right."

The inclusion of the Language Lab CD-ROM obviously was motivated by the
undeniable popularity of the Klingon language itself.  "The [Klingon]
language is so beautifully designed that it's actually fairly simple to
learn," Braswell commented when asked what made this faux-alien tongue
such a hit with fans. "There aren't twelve different cases or tenses.
It's a very logically constructed language, because it was created
artificially instead of organically.  It's like when you're a kid, and
you make up a secret code to speak with your friends.  Well, Klingon is
like a bigger version of that code, where you know that only other
people who like the same thing you do"-in other words, Star Trek-"speak
this language.  I also think there's the 'Oh my God, this is so cool,
this is a totally made-up language!" factor to consider."

And what is Klingon's appeal for linguists?  "Natural languages
generally have a certain degree of symmetry in their sound structures.
Klingon's is twisted. It's warped.  Distorted.  Mare Okrand [the
linguist who created the Klingon language] had a lot of fun building
it," Mandel remarked humorously.

Preduction With preproduction completed-except for the script, which
would continue to undergo revision during shooting-and the technological
foundation firmly in place, producers Halper and Braswell entrusted the
reins to director Jonathan Frakes.

Frakes, best known as Commander William Riker of Star Trek.- The Next
Generation, also is an experienced director, and one whom the producers
felt was the logical choice for this ambitious foray into interactive
media.  Frakes's decision to direct the product was motivated by two
simple factors: curiosity and opportunity.

"It was something new I'd never done before.  I was offered the job, and
that was it," Frakes quipped.

Robert O'Reilly reprised the role of Gowron, leader of the Klingon High
Council, which he created in numerous appearances on Star Trek- The Next
Generation, and production commenced.

Frakes soon found that directing an interactive CDROM differed in many
ways from directing for film or television.  "There's no 'coverage,'
which means you have to do the point of view in a continuous shot," he
said.  "It's linear, as opposed to shooting a master shot and then
cutting in for close-ups, which is confusing to a player.  So you have
to design shots that don't cut. You don't want to break the flow.  We
fell out of that a couple of times and took some dramatic license, but
as a whole, that point of view needed to be maintained through the whole
game.  It was tough."

A testament to Frakes's uniquely well-suited talent for directing
interactive products was that he realized that the new medium would have
its own technical considerations as well as logistical needs.

"I had to go to Tokyo over the summer," recalled Duck Corps' Marder.
"While I was in Tokyo I checked in with my office and found I got a call
from Keith [Halper].  I called Keith from Tokyo and he told me that
Jonathan Frakes wanted to know if I could send one of my engineers to
Paramount to be there when they set up their lighting and start the
shooting process so that Jonathan could get some test compression done
on the soundstage, so that he could see what final results were going to
be."

"We were concerned about the lighting," Frakes explained, "because
Klingons' costumes are dark, their sets are dark, and the feel of them
is dark.  We were afraid because a lot of CD-ROMs look dark anyway.  And
we were right, we had to use brighter light.  Later it was transferred
and compressed down to a color we liked."

"This was the first time that I've had a director say that's what he
wants to do," Marder said admiringly of Frakes.  "And it was so
important, because he realized this wasn't going to be seen on
television, it wasn't going to be in a movie theater, it's a new
medium."

Although Frakes found directing interactive to be different from his
work in film and TV, actor O'Reilly felt right at home in the new
medium.  "It's really not that different," the actor confessed.  "It
really doesn't

make that much of a difference to an actor.  I've even filmed different
endings to TV shows or films.  It happens in our business.  It happened
even before the CD-ROM came on the scene.  Producers might not like an
ending or they might feel unsure of an ending so they'll film it twice.
It's a rarity but it does occur.  In television and film you really have
to learn how to turn on a dime with what's going on, so CD-ROM is
nothing unusual.  You've got three or four different answers and you
know you have to do the work, so it's just like life.  You do it."

Even once shooting had started, the merry chaos was far from over.  Many
of those who were on the soundstage have vivid memories of the more
absurd moments.

"There was one day of shooting when we had a crew come in from
Entertainment Tonight, and they were shooting during lunch hour," Halper
divulged conspiratorially.  "Since they were shooting during lunch hour,
we kept the soundstage doors shut.  Now, what happens when you're using
smoke and have lights on all day is the temperature in the place goes
way up, and you open up the doors during lunch to cool the place down.
Well, we never did that.  So when they came in the afternoon, it had to
have been 115 degrees in there.  And then it kept getting hotter and
hotter and hotter, and there was poor Robert O'Reilly with his Klingon
mask melting right off of his face."

O'Reilly and his fellow Klingons enjoyed their share of laughs as well
over at the Paramount Commissary.  "You get a lot of looks," he said
matter-of-factly.  "Certainly, when you walk down the street, eyes turn,
and there was one time when we were filming for the CD-ROM, we were
walking by and some Paramount executives had some people from the
network affiliates as guests.  And they were fascinated by it, because
most of them had never seen Klingons up close, and there were about six
of us.  And it's unusual to see that many Klingons at once, anyway,
except in a dream, and I'm not sure if that would be a good dream."

Perhaps the most memorable moment during the filming of the Klingon!
CD-ROM was the inaugural performance of the Klingon National Anthem.

"There's just something wonderfully absurd about working with a room
full of Klingons, aside from the olfactory pleasure," Frakes joked. "The
night that we constructed the Klingon National Anthem, [the Klingons]
rising to sing on the bridge of the warbird, is a night that we will all
remember for a long time. Complete, total absurdity....  I think it's
the high point of the piece."

"Magic," was how Halper described the moment that the anthem became
reality.  "All the Klingons are sitting on the bridge of the Bird of
Prey and they've just ...  found a big clue on their great quest.  So
now they feel like they're not wandering around aimlessly, but instead
they have a purpose.  There's nothing more stirring than a Klingon with
a purpose, so all of a sudden, Gowron beats his hands against his
chairBam!  Bam!  Bam!-and then the gunner stands up, because she knows
the song that he's beating the time

to-it's the Klingon National Anthem.  And she begins to sing this very
moving song-'HoY, Kahless PuKLod.  .  .  .  '-and everybody jumps in....
I felt like I had participated in Star Trek history at that moment.

"The way that was written was that Hilary wrote something in English,
then she faxed it out to Mare Okrand," Halper continued.  "Then Okrand
translated it to Klingon and put his literal translation below the
Klingon verses.  The literal translation is always skewed at bit, so if
you send him 'Row, row, row your boat,' you'll get back 'Propel, propel,
propel your craft."'

Bader recalled her own slice of surrealism from the two-week shoot.
"During much of the shoot, there were a few actors who were in almost
every day," she said.  "The poor actors, Kahless bless them, would come
in at some horrendous hour, like around four A.M., and get Klingonized.
By the time I arrived at a reasonable eight or nine A.m., there was a
studio filled with nothing but Klingons.

" During the filming of any movie, there is a lot of downtime for the
actors.  One of the actors, his name was Paul, would come over and hang
with us.  After two weeks of long days, I got to be quite friendly with
him.

"One day we were staying late to shoot some scene involving only one
actor, probably Robert [O'Reilly]. The other actors were released to
costuming and makeup to be de-Klingonized.  As we're shooting, this

nice-looking guy comes up to me and starts talking to me.  As if he
knows me.  Very friendly, very chummy.  I thought, 'Who the heck is this
guy?" I was growing uncomfortable.

"Finally-he must have sensed my discomforthe said to me, 'You don't know
who I am, do you?

I'm Paul." I was shocked.  This was my Klingon bud. The guy I'd spent
the last two weeks with for hours every day, and I didn't recognize him.
In fact, even after he told me who he was I still felt weird talking to
him."

Postpmduction

By the time shooting was finished, the final phase of the Klingon!
CD-ROM already was well under way Like a film or TV episode, the CD-ROM
needed to be edited and its various software components assembled in
their proper sequence.

Being a producer of interactive CD-ROM is "somewhat similar to being a
television producer," Halper said, "with the one caveat that you have
this whole other element TV producers don't have to worry about, which
is programming.  And the people who are programming have as much
creative input as anybody else in the process."

"Once the raw Klingon CD footage was shot, Keith passed it all-all this
video, all this music, all this audio-into my hands to finish up the
technological side," Braswell remarked.  "I act as the contact with the
developers-Dragon Systems and Touchscreenand I make sure this project
goes from being just video to being not just a game, but a true
interactive experience."

The edited and enhanced video and audio materials from the production
team at Paramount, the speech-recognition protocols from Dragon Systems,
and the TrueMotion software from Duck Corp.  were then delivered to the
technical wizards at Touchscreen, who assembled it into a digital
product.  The step-by-step process of how that transpires was provided
by Touchscreen's Cheryl Meollenbeck.

"The traditional media gets delivered to us in some kind of videotape
format, DAT tape format, or audioCD-type format," Meolienbeck explained.
"We receive all of the media from whoever has done pieces of this
project, digitize it, or we compress it-if it's video footage it gets
both digitized and compressedand then we take care of all the
synching-up of the audio to the video in a digital format.  And that
would be media preparation-converting all the assets into a digital
format.

"Once they're in that format," Meollenbeck continued, "we have to have a
staff of programmers work to build an 'engine." For Star Trek.- Klingon!
there were two engines needed-one to support the interactive episode,
and the other one was a gaming engine to support the Language Lab.

"My partner, Dennis McCole, has a strong television background,"
Meollenbeck added.  "He was the technical director on the shoot, working
with Jonathan Frakes to ensure that the point-of-view perspective was
portrayed properly, that from a user interaction standpoint the scenes
would work.  Jona than's kind of a traditional film director, but this
product was shot in full point of view, which is not a typical way to
shoot a film.  So adherence to the core design was our
responsibility-during preproduction, throughout the shooting, and again
in postproduction."

Once the early working prototypes were delivered to Simon and Schuster
Interactive by Touchscreen executive producer Halper paused to reflect
on the nearly two years he had devoted to bringing this project to
fruition, and the roles various people played in making it happen.

"I was showing the beta version off at the Paramount lot, and a lot of
people were very surprised that we were able to do something like this
on a computer," Halper said proudly.  "I am really appreciative of the
work that Duck did.  They have something which is truly revolutionary"

But while Halper was pleased with the final result or his labors, he
mused that the personal cost was higher than he had expected.  "I was on
the Paramount lot for the whole prep, the shoot, and all of the
editing," he said.  "I got involved in this to a degree that I don t
want to repeat.  At one point I was listening to all the sound effects
and evaluating the Foley and saying, 'Oh, no, so-and-so's footsteps
would be much heavier than that." I've been told that Rick Berman gets
involved like this, gets his hands in every single detail because he
feels it's critical to ensuring the quality of his show....  It's
inspirational."

"Inspirational" is a word ' that might be applied to the reason for all
this work and invention, the Klingons themselves.  Undoubtedly, their
popularity motivated the Klingon!  CD-ROM's genesis, and its creators
are hopeful that it also will spur the three-CD-ROM set on to record
sales.  But what do the people behind its creation think makes these
ridgepated, easily provoked disciples of honor so popular with the fans?

"They're a cultural archetype," Braswell offered as a possible
explanation.  "They're the Vikings, the samurai, the Native Americans.
They're a pure warrior society, the likes of which America hasn't ever
really known.  We may be striving toward that Star Trek.- The Next
Generation sort of peaceful coexistence, but there is something in us
all which really longs for simple, pure animal release, the spartan
lifestyle, the notion that honor is what's important, not remembering to
set your VCR to tape Frasier or get your taxes done on time.  Klingons
represent a simpler way of being which we don't have now.

"And in Klingon society if you don't like your boss you challenge him to
a duel," Braswell remarked wistfully.  "If you kill him, you get to take
his job, which is the American dream."

"Klingons, ya gotta love 'em....  Because if you don't, they'll kill
you," Bader quipped.  "Seriously?  I feel like it's not for me to say. I
love them.  The fact that honor is what drives them, yet they keep room
in their lives for art, poetry, song."

"They smell.  As a breed, they stink," Frakes declared without
hesitation.  "But they have a primal connection.  They are warriors,
they are direct, they don't seem to work with much of a hidden agenda.
And they wear turtles on their heads."

"Because they're sort of straight-on people and they're uncomplicated,"
O'Reilly said with the conviction of one who knows.  "They have honor,
which they prize above all else, and I think that's what humans really
want more than anything else, but we get a little bit convoluted in our
lives....  Everything is either right or wrong for them....  In some
ways, they're almost like the knights of King Arthur's court before the
fall.  Plus, they know how to have fun."

And in the end equation, fun is what it's all about.

Qapla'.