The River is Red

[KVorlag 0]

K’Vorlag opened his eyes and bolted upright. His hands tensed into claws as he jerked his head around, looking for the enemy. There was a sterile smell, soft light, and familiar tones.

 

A figure near the darkened wall stood, advancing.

 

“You may feel some residual pain from capillary damage,” the cool baritone advised, “but you are quite alive, Governor.” Sorehl stepped closer to the biobed and into the bright illumination of the Reliant sickbay.

 

K’Vorlag relaxed, letting his muscles ease against the mattress. His eyes burned and the tips of his ears and fingers pulsed with each beat of his heart. “Life is pain,” he sighed. There was more to that adage, he recalled, but he was too tired to think about it. “I thought I might wake up to one of those bloodsuckers. The battle was not going well.”

 

“Hence your order to ram the Al-Ucard mothership,” Sorehl surmised. “Not the most prudent action.”

 

K’Vorlag barked a laugh, feeling a searing tightness to his chest. “It worked, didn’t it?”

 

“At the cost of your ship,” Sorehl noted.

 

“I knew what I was doing,” K’Vorlag sighed raggedly, closed his eyes. He was silent for a moment. “And my crew?”

 

“Captain Halloway advised me that they recovered some sixty lifepods,” Sorehl reported. “It would seem you gave them enough time to evacuate. Curious that you would plan a HIvneS but deny your crew the glory.”

 

“Honor-attack,” K’Vorlag scoffed. “Death is the last glory – no need to hasten it if you can live and still send the enemy to theirs. I needed to dump life support into the structual integrity field. They're too good a crew to throw away.” He grinned savagely. “We were a kut’luch in their underbelly.”

 

Sorehl merely nodded. “It had the virtue of being decisive.”

 

The Klingon swung his legs around, hanging off the side of the biobed. He narrowed his eyes at the Vulcan. “We are not at alert. The battle ended well?”

 

“It would seem we prevailed,” Sorehl answered succinctly. “Although our losses might have been greater without the intervention of the Hundred.”

 

“Greater?” he frowned. “You mean those liquid traitors helped us?” The Klingon got to his feet, noting the Vulcan made no move to assist him. “Why?”

 

“Unclear,” Sorehl folded his hands. “They may not have wished the Al-Ucard to intrude on territory they view as their own.”

 

K’Vorlag stood, drawing in breath. “No sense letting someone ruin their inheritance,” he offered. He looked around for his uniform.

 

“Precisely,” the captain agreed. “The Al-Ucard fleet seemed unwilling to contend against our combined forces after their arrival.”

 

“Doq bIQtIq bIQ,” K’Vorlag muttered. “It is momentous, but of what I do not know. Our sword is in that river, too. The Scorpiad won’t ignore us now.” The Klingon looked around the cramped sickbay. “Where is my balric, Vulcan? I have tactical plots to review…”

Edited June 17, 2006 by KVorlag

[KVorlag 0]

It was suggested that I explain two of the Klingon metaphors from my log, neither of which are my creation, that come from "Star Trek Klingon for the Galactic Traveler" by Marc Okrand.

 

Doq bIQtIq bIQ ("The river water is red.") While humans use this metaphor to indicate great carnage, the Klingon use indicates something momentous has happened. This comes from a drinking song commemorating the slaying of the tyrant Molor by Kahless. On that day, according to song, the River Skral was colored with the fluids of Molor.

 

bIQ'a'Daq 'oHtah 'etlh'e' ("The sword is in the ocean.") Implies that something has changed and is impossible to return to a prior condition - there is no going back. After Kahless' brother Morath killed their father, he threw their father's sword into the ocean saying that if he could not have it, no one could. Kahless and Morath never spoke again.

Edited June 18, 2006 by KVorlag