The Coming Storm

[Savros 0]

On Quo'nos the average storm front is quite different from Earth. Although the planet is teaming with life, the erratic wabble of the planet contributes to very powerful storm fronts. Combine this with the destruction of Praxis and the storms have been devastatingly large. Compared to Klingon storms, category 3 hurricanes are as common as tropical storms.

Rok'Tun stood on the shore of his ancestral home and stared at the incoming storm. All of the arrangements had been made. Much of his family had evacuated, but many, many warriors remained. They were going to make a stand. With winds estimated at 230 mph, his home which had stood for 800 years might now be in jeopardy. The only comfort came from knowing that four other rival houses would be staying through it as well.

 

By 1700 the storm's fury pounded his home. Those who failed to evacuate the smaller houses were driven from their homes and joined with the five.

 

By 1800, the first of the large houses fell; many of its occupants were injured or killed. Unfortunately, the survivors found there was no room for them with the remaining four houses and most of them went unattended.

 

By 1900, the eye of the storm passed and there was an eerie lull. During this time, defenses were reworked and several of the large houses began to communicate. Three of the houses decided to work together, but Rok'Tun's house decided it best to weather the storm alone.

 

At 2000, the north wall of Rok'Tun's home had fallen and mass amounts of water entered in. Two of the other houses fared equally poorly. The roof of the first became saturated with water and collapsed in large sections. The second was hit by a tidal wave which broke through the rear door and flooded the house.

 

By 2100 the storm had passed. Rok'Tun surveyed the damage to his home and visited the other houses. As he looked through the debris he heard "Commander."

 

*****

Rok'Tun stirred in his bed and opened his eyes. His dream of a great and terrible storm had ended abruptly with someone calling for him.

 

"Commander. Commander!" came the urgent request at the door.

 

"Yes, yes, what is it?"

 

"Commander, you asked me to wake you for your promotion ceremony."

 

The ridgeless Klingon stood and began putting on his clothes. "Yes, Gar'at, you did well. I am awake."

 

Some time later, Rok'Tun stood before some forty other Klingons. The head of his house inducted him formally into the Order of the Targ and promoted him to the rank of Captain. Then, as he accepted this honor, he was given a moment to speak.

 

"Over a year ago, the moon Praxis exploded and plunged the empire into crisis. The chancellor had a crucial decision to make, go to war with the Federation or work towards peace. He was unwise to make peace with our enemy. We do not need the Federation! They pollute the warrior heart with their gifts!" The room burst out in affirmation.

 

Rok'Tun continued, "The only security we shall know is the security of war! There is none other! Until we have seized the Empire and placed a true Klingon on the throne, we shall not know peace!" Again the room roared with cheers.

 

Blood wine was spread in goblets to everyone in the room. The new Captain took a goblet and raised it high, "To you my peers I say, let us fight for the blood of the empire!"