Blade and Forge: Fireside, Klingon Logs Options

[Col. C.E. Harper]

(Takes place evening of May 27, a little over a week after the VDC bombing.)

Blade and Forge: Fireside

The Council Hall was dim and silent, only one smoky brazier shedding light into the cavernous room. His footsteps echoed back to him in nearly deafening chorus, and he hesitated.

"Come out of the shadows, jupwI'ngo," a weary voice said from beyond the haze of smoke.

LoS'tach, head of the House of Sorek and eldest member of the High Council, strode across the vaS'a with firm steps. Over the dying fire he could make out a figure seated at the head of the hall. "Chancellor," he began, but the man raised a hand.

"That is no longer my title, LoS'tach," Kimtor said heavily. "This leg of mine --"

"You are still Chancellor, my old friend. No successor has been appointed yet."

Kimtor chuckled without mirth. "Too many shocks at once would only turn the Council against itself. Tomorrow I will call for them to support Kudaj." His eyes slid away from the glowing coals to rest on LoS'tach's face. "You will support him?"

"If you wish."

A faint growl backed Kimtor's reply. "Come, man, speak your mind."

LoS'tach shook his head slightly. "He is very young."

"Who else would you choose? That taHqeq, DegoS? He would have us at war with the DIvI' and the romuluSnganpu' within the hour."

"Still," LoS'tach said. "Still, it is not what I would have wished for us."



The object of their discussion was at that moment seated in a tavern, scowling into his bloodwine, oblivious to the noise around him and to the smoking hearth beside him. His companion was less sanguine; he coughing and bellowed for the tavern keeper to fix the fire.

Turning away from the youth who scurried out to stoke the blaze, he clapped a meaty hand on his friend's shoulder. "Don't look so glum, Kudaj," he said. "Soon you will be High Chancellor! You should be celebrating!"

"Unless DegoS has his way," Kudaj replied grimly. He turned a speculative eye on his friend. "Or you, Jo'mav."

Jo'mav did not flinch. "I would take it," he agreed. "But the Chancellor chose you. Do you believe I would interfere with that?"

“If you thought it best, you might.” Not waiting for an answer, he took a deep pull of his bloodwine and continued, “You are my friend, my comrade. I know this. I also know your ambitions.”

“My ambitions do not include harm to the Empire,” Jo’mav assured him. “As standing against you would surely be.”



In another firelit hall light-years away, on the frozen world of Boreth, a young woman sat silently, huddled within a fur cloak in defiance of the blaze before her.

"Keh'lath…" a low voice said behind her.

She closed her eyes briefly. "Join me, K'mach."

A man stepped out of the shadows and seated himself beside her, moving lightly despite the grey in his hair and beard. "Have you not packed yet?"

"I do not want to go."

"You must."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a time, while the fire crackled merrily before them.

"It was a good death," K'mach said at length.

Keh'lath stared into the fire without seeing it. "Was it? No battle, no enemy, only a fire –"

He cut her off, with some surprise. "No one told you?"

"Tell me what, old man?"

Shaking his head, K'mach said, "It was no sudden death, Keh'lath. The survivors reported that he fought the flames, cleared a pathway in the rubble – held it open so that others could flee." His eyes slid to her face. "It was a good death,” he repeated.

She looked up from the flames, staring into his face for a long moment, then nodded curtly and looked away. "There is that, at least."