A Young Warrior's Imperial Ascension
AKA
Tahn'yagh the Klingon
Youjo Senki x Star Trek
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A/n: Surprise, I decided to write none of the things I thought I would.
Big thanks to @Sunshine , their discord server, and @Readhead for helping me with this.
"Well, Old Man," Sisko turned to give Jadzia Dax an expectant look. "Any word on when this 'Old Friend' of yours should be turning up?"
The two were in the command center of Deep Space 9, along with the rest of his command staff. Other than the expectations weighing on him from the woman's warning, the day had turned out much like any other on the station. A steady stream of newly arrived ship traffic eager for berthing permissions, the wormhole periodically spasming open to spit out some new explorer, and a couple 'disturbances' in Quarks to round out the day.
It was an utterly average shift at his station so far, and more than anything else,
that had him worried.
"Any minute now, Benjamin," Dax replied, her eyes pouring over the sensor screens, as if waiting for something to jump out at them. "General Iktoh is a man of his word. Although… he can have a tendency to be… dramatic."
"Dramatic?" Sisko gave her a pointed look.
"He's a big fan of Klingon Opera," she said, smiling coyly at her non-answer.
Sisko sighed and turned to his second in command. "Well, Major, it seems we can expect a 'dramatic entrance' from this Klingon general."
"So, what, de-cloaking on top of us with an entire battlefleet?" Kira Nerys caustically remarked. "I'm sure that'll go over just
swell with the provisional government."
"Well, think about it this way," Chief O'Brian commented with his station. "A bunch of Klingon warships dropping right on top of us will piss the Cardassians right off, that's for sure."
The Bajoran Major gave the engineer a considering look at that intriguing concept. "You know… that
is a pleasant thought."
"Though I'm not sure the Constable will enjoy the kind of trouble that a fresh band of Klingon sailors can stir up," Sisko pointed out. "Even if they
are here for a 'friendly visit'."
"General Iktoh can make sure his men can behave. It's more his-" Dax started, before being cut off by a sudden alert from the consoles.
"Vessels uncloaking, half a million klicks from the station, vector 179, Delta Sector," Chief O'Brian quickly reported. "It's five-no, six starships. Definitely Klingon. Four B'rels, a Vor'cha, and…" The Chief gave Sisko a concerned look. "Computers don't recognize the last one, sir. Partial match with a Vor'cha, but it's too different to say for certain. Definitely the same weight class, though."
"So… two cruisers and their escorts showing up on our doorstep." Major Nerys sighed, setting her shoulders in that fashion Sisko had come to interpret as bracing herself for less pleasant times ahead. "Well… I suppose I
did ask for it."
"They're hailing us, Commander," Dax announced, briefly skimming over the signals coming in from the fleet. "It's definitely the General's signal."
"Very well," Sisko acknowledged, straightening his uniform and making sure he was as presentable as Starfleet expected of a commanding officer. "Put him on screen."
The primary viewscreen of the command deck winked into existence, showing the dim interior of a KDF bridge. At the helm was an old Klingon man, relatively stocky for their race, with long grey hair bound together and trailing down his back. The bony forehead crest that so characterized his species took the form of angular ridges across his weathered skull. A prominent goatee tipped his chin, which the old general was stroking as he smiled easily for the camera, the expression softening the lines on his weathered face.
Something about that smile eased the knot in Sisko's gut. Rather than a sneer filled with cunning, battle-hunger, or arrogance as he had seen in so many other Klingons, Iktoh's expression looked like the honest smile of a jovial old man.
"Dax!" The man bellowed, his rough voice rumble across the deck as his dark eyes twinkled with mirth. "It's been far too long, old friend! We must share a drink when I get to the station."
The general's amber eyes shifted to Sisko's, and he could see a measure of the mirth drain away, replaced with a keen look piercing through him. Yet, the twinkle and the smile remained, just as casual as before. "And Commander Benjamin Sisko of the Federation. I've heard quite a bit about you."
"Good things, I hope," Sisko replied.
"Oh no,
terrible things." The man's expression grew dour for a brief moment, just long enough for Sisko's gut to clench, only the general's face to immediately brighten back up into a toothy smile. "Terribly
amusing things, Commander. Your efforts at Utopia Planitia do you credit."
That surprised Sisko for a moment.
But then… considering the work I did… he thought, holding back a frown,
I suppose I can't say I'm surprised a Klingon general of all people would be amused by the Federation's Anti-Borg Fleet Program. If anything, I'm just surprised he knows about it…
"Thank you, General," Sisko said, nodding in acknowledgment. "My science officer told me to keep an eye out for you. Something about you paying my station a 'friendly visit'?"
"Indeed, Commander." The general's face turned serious, the smile slipping into a more thoughtful, contemplative expression. "It is a matter of grave importance. The reason why I have arrived with so many of my House forces."
"And that matter is?" Sisko prodded, almost dreading the answer.
Here comes today's headache, he thought.
In a flash, the fanged grin returned tenfold.
"Why, seeing off my daughter's first mission in her new starship, of course!"
…I can see what Jadzia meant by "dramatic," Sisko almost sighed.
Glancing at the Trill science officer from the corner of his eye, Benjamin could see the smallest twitch of her lip telling him
exactly how amusing she found all this.
I suppose I should've expected the two crazy old men to get along like this…
"And what can I expect for this 'first mission' of your daughters?" Sisko said. "I'm assuming that if you came all the way here and gave us fair warning, it will have something to do with my station?"
"Indeed, Commander, indeed," the general nodded, "although the specifics are best discussed in person, if I may come aboard. Though, worry not, it will likely be more a boon than a curse for your duties."
That remains to be seen, Sisko thought, but didn't say.
"Very well. Permission granted," Benjamin nodded. "And in the meantime, I'm sure your men can find plenty of entertainment on the station. Just… try not to give my Constable too much of a headache, General."
Iktoh barked a laugh deep from his gut. "Oh, I can make no promises there, Commander! If there is one thing House Zukt'cho is fond of, it is songs of honor!"
And with that, the general cut the connection.
Sisko shot Dax a look. He could practically already hear the off-tune Klingon roaring they called "singing" thundering through the halls of the station.
"Well… I told you he's a fan of opera," she shrugged, doing a very poor job of hiding her smile.
This time he really did sigh.
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"Well, General, now that you're aboard, what did you want to talk about?" Sisko said, walking around the desk in his office and idly picking up his baseball.
He sent a quick glance towards Jadzia, who'd joined him. She didn't seem half as anxious as he was, which made sense given how well Dax knew the old Klingon. Sisko himself wasn't exactly worried, per se, but he did find himself waiting to see when the other shoe would drop.
Opposite them was the old Klingon general, Iktoh. His age and dignity were, if anything, even more apparent in person, as was his jovial disposition. He carried himself in a way that made Benjamin think of his grandfather. An overall cheerful old man keen to dispense his years of wisdom, though one with a less than cheerful past.
Accompanying him were two Klingon women with the same house markings as the general. The older of the two look to be about Sisko's age, though it was possible that she was much older than she looked, considering Klingon lifespans. She had a different air than most of the Klingons he'd met, her uniform a neat and tidy padded jumpsuit and her thick hair pulled into a tight bun. There was keen interest in her dark eyes as they traveled around the room, a kind of weathered analytical intensity he hadn't expected to see in a Klingon officer.
The other woman was much younger, a girl who looked like she might have been little more than a fresh graduate from the Academy. She had softer features than any Klingon Sisko could recall seeing, looking in some way almost delicate, at least until he met her hard golden eyes. That, combined with the prominent angular forehead ridges, formal armor studded in trophies, and the confidence in her posture told him she was just as much a proud Klingon warrior as any other he'd met.
"First, let me say that you have an impressive station here, Commander," General Iktoh congratulated him. "Quite the prize the Federation claimed from the Cardassians."
"Thank you, General, but…" Sisko was somewhat caught off guard by the sentiment. "...The station is still Bajoran, they've merely requested Federation administration."
"Indeed!" the stocky Klingon grinned, "And in doing so they have run right into your arms, and granted you quite the valuable strategic location while they were at it!"
Sisko didn't know what to say to that, certainly nothing Starfleet Command would approve of, so he just decided to switch topics.
"How about we get back to the matter at hand, General," he said instead, fingers tracing over the familiar stitching of the worn baseball. "Why are you here?"
The general chuckled, "Very well, Commander. To the point it is. I trust you noticed the new starship?"
"The one we couldn't identify?" Dax asked, receiving a nod in turn. "We got a partial match with a Vor'cha class, but given its hammerhead prow…"
"Yes, I'm not surprised you only got a partial match with a Vor'cha. That is the hull it is based on." The general held up a small holo emitter, "If I may?"
Sisko nodded and gestured to his desk.
Iktoh placed the emitter on his desk and activated it, revealing a 3-dimensional view of the new ship in question.
It had a very similar frame to the Vor'cha class, particularly the rear half with the short wings sweeping forward and down connecting the warp nacelles to the main hull, and the angular weapons platform "hump" with radiator baffles. The difference came with the neck, as the Vor'cha class normally tapered to a spearhead shape featuring a powerful primary disrupter on the chin of the bridge section.
Instead, this new class had a hammerhead capping the neck. It was wide, jagged, arrowhead design, far larger than the Vor'cha's, and missing the bow-mounted main disruptor cannon. In its place it looked to have a powerful deflector array, something that seemed more at home among Starfleet's exploration vessels than a Klingon warship.
"This is the Fek'lhr class Research Cruiser," General Iktoh grinned. "The first of her kind."
Sisko couldn't help but blink at that, though Dax got to it before he could.
"A
Research Cruiser?" she asked, incredulous.
"It's inspired, in particular, by the Federation's Nebula class," the older Klingon woman explained, speaking up for the first time. "The ship is designed to be able to do long term deep space exploration and research, as well as handle itself in a fight."
General Iktoh nodded, his expression turning serious. "My love for the Klingon Empire is boundless, but even I can see that it grows stagnant. While the Empire wallows in mediocrity and wastes time singing of past glory, the Federation's star seems to only rise ever higher. That we are content merely to boast of honor in the meantime is shameful."
The general stroked his goatee, closing his eyes in contemplation. Sisko, meanwhile, internally rocked at the implications of a general of the empire, and the leader of one of its Great Houses, openly talking about the Empire in such unflattering terms. Still…
"Then I assume this new ship is an attempt to… change that course?" Benjamin guessed.
"Indeed, commander," the general nodded. "While many on Qo'nos whisper of potential new conquests, it is the wise hunter who learns from fellow huntsmen. The Empire stagnates while the Federation rises, but why?"
Iktoh gestured to the ship diagram again. "It is because, unlike the Empire, the Federation values the haft of an empire, not merely the tip of its blade. Industry, commerce, research, how many fundamental qualities of a great power do the so-called 'Honorable Warriors' scorn?"
"This is a proof of concept," Dax guessed. "A Research Cruiser like this… you want it to go out on exploration missions and bring back valuable science, resources, even allies for the Empire's benefit."
"Much like the Federation does with its famous Enterprise, no?" Iktoh grinned.
Sisko wasn't much sure he liked the comparison, but he had to admit that he much preferred the idea of Klingons taking inspiration from the Federation rather than trying to start another war. Hopefully this research ship wasn't the sign of another war brewing on the horizon, anyways.
"And let me guess, you're here for the wormhole?" Sisko ventured.
"The obvious answer, hmm?" Iktoh grinned, "But not quite. Oh, to be sure, it presents an invaluable test for the ship, and an incredible well of opportunities for the Empire. But that is not why I am
here."
His eyes turned to Dax.
"...Me?" Jadzia blinked. "Iktoh, I'm flattered, but I'm not sure what you want me to do?"
"It is not so much what I want from you, old friend, so much as it is about repaying what I owe. What honor would I have if I forgot my debts?" Iktoh's smile shifted, gaining an edge Sisko didn't much like. "And in this sector of space, well… my friend, I have a feeling you will need all the help you can get."
"And what exactly does that mean?" Sisko stepped back in.
"The wormhole is an invaluable jewel, commander. Even the Federation must see that. One on the border of Cardassian space," Iktoh explained. "Oh, how it must burn the Union to know that they let Bajor slip through their grasp mere moments before it became one of the most valuable sectors in the quadrant."
"You think they'll make a play for the Bajor again?" Benjamin said. "With the treaty we've arranged-"
"Bah," the general waved it off like a bad smell. "Even if that treaty was worth the paper it was printed on, you're a fool if you think the Obsidian Order would let something as paltry as that stop them. Mark my words, Commander, the Cardassians will be doing whatever they can to get their hands on that wormhole."
"To say nothing of what you may find on the other side," the younger Klingon woman commented. "Who knows what threats you might face in the Gamma Quadrant?"
"Indeed," the general nodded, then stopped, suddenly shooting Sisko an apologetic look. "Ah! For shame, commander, I have failed to make proper introductions."
Iktoh placed a gentle hand on the younger Klingon's back and prodded her forward. "This is my daughter, Lieutenant Commander Tahn'yagh. The pride and joy of my life, and the second in command of the Fek'lhr."
The golden-eyed girl stepped up and met Sisko's gaze head on. "Greetings, Commander. It will be an honor to work with you."
"To work… with us?" Sisko said, uncertainty and suspicion knotting his gut. Free help wasn't exactly something he thought he was lucky enough to get.
"In a way," the older woman stepped forward this time.
"This is Doctor Okoy'ye. She is the Captain of the Fek'lhr, and more particularly heads its roster of scientists," the general explained.
"A Klingon Doctor? In charge of a warship?" Dax raised a brow, "I'm sure that's ruffled a few feathers."
"Why do you think I made my daughter her second in command?" Iktoh grinned. "Tahn'yagh has grown into a warrior of unparalleled skill. Since the day she came of age, she has yet to lose a single official duel. Should any of the crew have…
lofty ambitions, she will put them to rest. "
"Father is far too generous," Tahn'yagh hastily corrected. "I simply learned well under his tutelage. Even now, he can still best me in the ring."
Dax looked amused by that. "Tahn'yagh, your father is a Dahar Master. Even at his age, I'm sure there's few Klingons
alive who can best him in the ring. That you learned under him, and can match him at all, says much about your own prowess."
"Hah! You see, daughter? Even the Federation respects your prowess." Iktoh barked a laugh and gave Tahn'yagh a firm pat on the back. "Soon, songs of your valor will be sung across the Empire!"
The girl looked uncertain about that, and Sisko had to admit that the image of a Klingon warrior
shying away from prestige and honor wasn't exactly something he'd expected to see in his life. Though the sheer mundanity of a child practically blushing from the praises of her overly proud father hit just close enough to home to bring a smile to his lips. Despite his anxiety, Sisko found himself warming up to the old general.
"Well, with such a sterling endorsement, I have high hopes for you myself," Sisko said, "Though, you'll forgive me, General, if I take a father's praises with a grain of salt. I know how biased we can be."
"But if we do not sing their praises, who will?" Iktoh questioned, then belted out a deep roll of laughter.
Sisko couldn't help but grin. "Fair enough, General."
Tagh'yagh, between them, shuffled nervously. She sent a pleading look to Doctor Okoy'ye, who in turn sighed and spoke up.
"The reason that General Iktoh has placed me in command," the Klingon Doctor came to the girl's rescue, "is because he thinks I can ride herd on his ship full of mad scientists."
"You've done an excellent job at handling my mad scientists so far," Iktoh pointed out, mirth twinkling in his eyes.
"
So. Far." the doctor repeated icily. "I'm a biologist, not a miracle worker."
"Why not both?"
Okoy'ye just let out a weary sigh. Sisko got the sense the two had this conversation regularly. When he shot the general a curious look, Iktoh laughed.
"The good doctor here was part of the Federation exchange program with the Empire. She got the opportunity to study at Starfleet Academy, and picked up quite a few prestigious degrees under her belt during that time." Iktoh smiled. "Which means she actually understands what the brilliant minds I hire mean when they devolve into their technobabble ramblings."
"Those 'brilliant minds' were experimenting with weaponized subspace shockwaves." Doctor Okoy'ye growled. "When I found them they were
this close to causing a resonance cascade on Qo'nos that would have made Praxis look like a fire-cracker!"
"But you were able to stop them in time. You even understand what that means!" Iktoh beamed. "That makes you perfect for the job."
Okoy'ey scowled and shot Tahn'yagh a dark look. The general's daughter gave her a helpless shrug.
"Don't worry, Commander, they both have my utmost confidence to handle things here." Iktoh said.
Sisko looked to his old friend for advice. Despite looking over the General with a reconsidering expression, she managed to catch his look and nod, assuaging his doubt.
"So… you won't be staying?" Benjamin asked.
"Oh no. Much as I may want to, Commander, I have far,
far too much work to do running House Zukt'Cho to go galavanting through the galaxy these days." Iktoh shook his head sadly. "Still, this will be a valuable learning experience for my daughter. Hopefully, it will groom her into a leader that can finally replace these old bones."
The old general laughed at his own joke, but Tahn'yagh only sent him a concerned look.
"In the meantime," Captain Okoy'ye said, "We will, with your permission, be using Deep Space 9 as a kind of… home port, if you will. While here, should you ever call on us, the Fek'lhr stands ready to honor the Empire's alliance with the Federation, and House Zukt'Cho's debts with Dax."
"Of course, having the Fek'lhr and her crew based at your station will also provide other… benefits. As we explore the Gamma Quadrant, we will be on the lookout for lucrative opportunities for the Empire. Untapped resources, new materials, even trade deals with newly contacted civilizations," Tahn'yagh pointed out. "Deep Space 9 would make a fine port of call for all of the traffic those encounters would inevitably produce.
"And," Tahn'yagh continued, "to still what I will guess is your initial reaction, while the Federation may not
officially have a need for currency internally, you cannot tell me that they would decline an opportunity to encourage free commerce. Not to mention that, this far out from Federation logistical lines? I'm sure having a few… supplementary resupply options wouldn't go amiss in your operations of this station either."
Sisko hated to admit it, but she did have a point. Much as the Federation prided itself on being a post-scarcity society, most of that abundance was found in the core worlds, and Deep Space 9 was about as far away from them as it was possible to be while remaining within Federation space. Combined with the fact that the station was of Cardassian make, not Starfleet, it lacked some of the same amenities he was used to. He hadn't been left out to dry, exactly, but he could certainly feel himself in a far less secure position than he would like.
However…
"General Iktoh… Thank you for the offer, but to be honest I'm not sure what I did to earn your favor?" Dax said. "We're old friends, but this is…?"
"Worry not. I am not surprised you do not know. I am sure you will understand in your own time." Iktoh nodded sagely. "Let me just say that without Curzon Dax, my daughter would not be with us here today."
Tahn'yagh shuffled nervously at that, and Okoy'ye let out a small sigh, but neither contradicted him. Glancing at Dax, he could see her reconsidering the Klingon doctor with a serious look. There was a lot to unpack there, and he wasn't sure where to start, or if he even should.
Well there's certainly a story there, Sisko thought.
But, if I'm lucky, it won't be my problem.
Benjamin didn't really consider himself to be that fortunate, but he also trusted Dax, and if Dax trusted General Iktoh's word then he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Out this far from Federation support, Sisko knew he needed all the help he could get.
"Well then, I suppose it'll be a pleasure to work with you as well," Sisko said, and forced a smile.
And hopefully this won't cause more problems than it solves.
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"I'm going to catch up with the old man over there," my father gestured to the young woman waiting for him by the turbolift.
Not that I didn't understand how the lifecycles of a Trill worked. If anything, I likely understood more than any man, or Klingon girl for that matter, alive about just how it felt to live a jumbled variety of lives. Still, it struck me that my father took express amusement out of referring to Jadzia Dax as an "old man" just because of his relationship with Curzon Dax. Something that, apparently, Jadzia herself also found amusing, given how often it drew a smile to her lips.
It was an… interesting relationship, and one that made me think about my own unusual status when it came to past lives.
"Feel free to join me if you like, Daughter. I'm sure Jadzia would love to meet you," he continued.
"Thank you for the offer, Father, but I believe I would prefer to get the 'lay of the land', so to speak," I replied.
"Oh?" My father gave me an inquiring look. "Scoping out your new hunting grounds, hmm?"
I gave a sharp nod in reply, Klingon body language being both oddly similar and different to the human customs I'd grown up with twice before. "Effectively, yes. If I am to be using this station as a home port, I must understand it to best leverage my resources."
Something about what I'd said seemed to amuse him, and he gave me a fond chuckle. "Very well, daughter. I recommend you start your journey at Quark's. I've heard the Ferengi entrepreneur has quite an
ear for business in this sector."
He gave me an all-too-pleased grin that told me exactly how much he enjoyed his own pun.
A long suffering sigh escaped my lips, but I would be remiss if I didn't follow his words. "Very well, father. I suppose it's as good a place to start looking as any."
"Oh, don't look so put upon, Tahn'yagh. I'm sure it will be worth your while," he reassured me. "If nothing else, he serves a nice strong cup of Raktajino."
I narrowed my eyes. "...You're trying to bribe me."
"And it's working!" my father beamed.
"...I hate it when you're right," I replied a moment later, heaving a sigh. "I really could do with a good Raktajino after this morning. The new blood we brought on board was all too eager to test me, and my own men were all too eager to provide a show."
Granted, being legally and culturally justified for thrashing your subordinates for being obstinate jackasses was a nice change of pace. The ability to actually punch my insufferable morons for causing me no end of headaches was a nice stress reliever, though there was a balance to be maintained between ensuring proper Klingon discipline and merely abusing the crew as some power-mad tyrant. The latter rarely ended well, for Klingons
or Humans.
"That's the spirit!" his broad grin widened, warm eyes burning like a cozy fireplace in the dead of winter. An ever-reliable balm on my soul. "Now, if you'll excuse me, these two old men have some catching up to do."
I watched my new father leave to rejoin his old friend with a spring in his step. Even by his standards, I had rarely seen him so happy. It was… nice.
I turned to Dr. Okoy'ye, inquiring on where she would be in the meantime.
"I'll be visiting the station's medical facilities before heading back to the ship," she immediately explained. "With your father monopolizing the chief science officer's time, I'd at least like to check in with the local medical professionals before leaving."
"You
have been wanting to touch base with more Federation medical technology," I said, nodding.
"Feh!" she scoffed, "I don't have much hope of that. This is a Cardassian station, the Feddies are just handling it. They might've refit the medlabs, but given they haven't even seen fit to set up a decent Starfleet Patrol out here, despite its value? Either the politicians on Earth are as short-sighted and weak-willed as I thought, or they're pointedly leaving Sisko out here to dry."
That is curious, isn't it? I thought.
Despite the value of the station, it only had a handful of runabouts for the station's complement. Barely more than overgrown shuttlecraft. If House Zukt'cho had a station in a similarly strategic location, it would have warranted at least
one proper warship for patrols. Likely not a top-of-the line force, probably something second rate that could be spared the task, like a K't'inga or a couple B'rels, but at least
something with decent legs and teeth.
The fact that Starfleet couldn't be bothered to task Commander Sisko even a single Miranda is quite the damning statement, in my opinion.
"Well at least they didn't leave him with an Oberth," I pointed out.
Okoy'ye barked a harsh laugh at that. "Hah! Worse than useless. An insult like… probably grounds for an honor battle or three in the Empire."
She wasn't wrong. I wasn't sure what kind of reputation the Oberth had in the Federation, or even what it was actually designed for, but it was somewhat infamous in the Empire as the perfect example of everything wrong with Starfleet's starship philosophy. Among the most polite of its nicknames was "the flying funeral". I could understand that not every ship needed to be a purpose built warship, but the stories told to me seemed to indicate that Starfleet could and would take what amounts to a civilian ship armed with a water cannon out to fight on the frontlines of war.
Getting stuck with one of those glorified coffins would have been a high insult, even in the Empire. Death in battle may be considered honorable, but there was a difference between a warrior's death and a life discarded.
"Well, I wish you luck on your search." I nodded.
"And to you on your dealings with this 'Quark'." She replied.
And with that, we made our separate ways.
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Finding Quark turned out to be easier than I expected. His establishment seemed to be one of the most popular on the station's promenade. Given his was the only business operational at the moment and apparently the sole source of drinks, gambling, and holosuites worth a damn on the station, it wasn't hard to see why.
"Can I help you with something?" a Ferengi patron asked when I approached the bar.
A glance around told me that my mere entrance had gained no small amount of attention in the room. Most had returned to drinks or games after a brief glance, but some carried the scent of fear about them.
It's interesting how new perspectives in life can lead to different thoughts, I noted, mind harkening back to the fact that Klingons had a markedly improved sense of smell over humans. My own abilities meant that enhancement was compounded yet further still.
I don't think scent has ever mattered so much to me in all my previous lives.
"I am Tahn'yagh of House Zukt'cho, in search of Quark," I announced.
There was a minute twitch on his face. A flicker of surprise, the scent of anxiety, and a faint sense of ambition.
"Well, you found him," Quark's eyes glanced at something over my shoulder. "I don't suppose you're here to do business?"
Glad to see we're on the same page.
"I am." I nodded.
He paused. "...you are?" then he shook himself, "I mean, of course you are! Who wouldn't want to do business with me?"
"I certainly wouldn't,
Quark," A gruff voice rumbled in warning from beside me.
I eyed an odd humanoid amble up to the bar. Their scent was… unusual, almost not there, lacking the usual markers for things like gender and age I found in most races, and what little I did sense was strangely…fluid. Like I couldn't quite pin it down. In appearance, they generally resembled a male human, with oddly smoothed over features, and the "man" wore a Bajoran Militia uniform with security markings and a constable's rank.
"Odo, if you want to hassle me, I'll see you in a moment, but as you might notice,
I'm with a customer," Quark hissed, glaring at the security officer.
"I've gotten word that we have some Klingon VIPs on board the station, and I wanted to make sure you didn't…" Odo looked me over and tipped his head my way. "...insult their honor. I would
hate to have to untangle you from the consequences of your own actions."
"I'll have you know I was having a perfectly polite discussion," Quark huffed, and then turned back to me.
I wasn't sure what kind of byplay was going on here, but when in doubt I found it best to default to bulldozing through things on the principles of Klingon Honor my father taught me, and let my new race's reputation do most of the legwork.
"Indeed." I nodded, and answered bluntly. "I was hoping to talk to Quark about arms dealing."
The room stopped.
"...Arms dealing?" Odo and Quark
both said in different but equally incredulous tones of voice.
I wasn't sure what the confusion was, so I just nodded again. "Yes. Commander Sisko has granted permission for my ship to use Deep Space 9 as its home port for the foreseeable future. I thought it prudent to get started on trade relations with the locals."
"And you decided to start with…
arms dealing?" Odo said.
"We're Klingons?" I shot back, more than a little baffled.
Surely the
Bajorans weren't the same pacifistic anti-capitalists the Federation was.
"You want
me to help
you sell Klingon weapons in the sector?" Quark said.
"Yes," I grunted, starting to get a little annoyed by how obtuse everyone was being. "House Zukt'cho has many surplus arms, and given the state of the sector it seems like defense is an area that would have quite a lot of demand."
That sparked something in the Ferengi's eye. "Now you're speaking my language."
"Quark," Odo warned.
"What? It's an honest business deal!"
"That's what you say every time."
"Because I'm an honest business man!"
"There's nothing 'honest' about you, Quark."
"I'll have you know, I am
always honest about the Rules of Acquisition."
"Should…" I spoke up, glancing between the two. "...Should I come back at a later time?"
"Yes," Odo grunted.
"No!" Quark shouted, then glared at Odo. "Don't you have some place you need to be securing?"
"Indeed I do," Odo nodded. "This station,
from illicit arms dealing."
"Illicit?" I frowned, somewhat offended. "I assure you, constable, that I have all the proper documentation and authority, as the heir of House Zukt'cho, to conduct entirely legal negotiations over our arms."
"
You may be legitimate, but I very much doubt Quark is," Odo said.
"Hey! I'll have you know I have all the licenses I need too!" He paused. "...somewhere."
"
And," Odo spoke over Quark, "even if you did, I wouldn't consider peddling Klingon guns to two-bit pirates in the making to be the kind of 'legitimate transaction' I want on this station."
"Oh… I hadn't realized selling to the Bajoran Militia would be considered 'peddling Klingon guns to two-bit pirates,'" I gave him a smile that was all teeth. "My mistake."
Odo froze at that.
Quark's eyes gleamed and his scent sparked of opportunity.
"Odo, you weren't just assuming we would be engaging in illicit arms deals just because I'm a Ferengi and she's a Klingon, would you?" he gasped, leaping at the moment of weakness. "Because, I don't know about you, but that sounds like it could be 'insulting her honor'. What do you think?"
"I think that if this is the kind of treatment I can expect from Bajor, perhaps I should look elsewhere to empty my cargo hold," I replied, immediately playing along.
"Now hold on a moment," Odo said. "What do you mean 'selling to the Bajoran Militia'?"
"Well, after freeing themselves of Cardassian occupation, I'm sure that Bajor is looking at the demilitarized zone with quite a wary eye. Sure, the Federation guarantees their security, but Starfleet is so far away, and Cardassia oh so close. With the wormhole added on to things, it's clear that when the shooting starts Bajor will be on the front lines," I explained. "And with how limited their own native defense industries are from said occupation, well… it's only natural that they might want some… security."
"Bajor is
not looking for more guns," Odo frowned.
"My contacts say otherwise." Quark said.
"Excellent! I was hoping you could get me in touch with the movers and shakers of Bajoran military procurement," I grinned. "If you can handle that task to my satisfaction, you're sure to earn yourself quite a 'finders fee'."
"What contacts?" Odo frowned.
"How much?" Quark ignored him.
"I'm thinking of a percentage of all sales," I replied. "The Klingon Empire has
quite a lot of surplus it has no need for."
"And the Bajorans are in a
high demand for ways to defend themselves," Quark said, greed radiating off of him.
"War
is good for business," I pointed out.
"Rule of Acquisition number 34," Quark agreed solemnly.
"Nobody is at war," Odo growled.
"Not a shooting one," I conceded. "Not yet, anyways. But a cold war like this is
excellent for the military industrial complex."
"Rule of Acquisition number 35:
Peace is good for business," Quark nodded. "And what is a cold war but a perfect blend of both? All the demand without any of the violence."
Odo let out an aggrieved groan. "Fine, fine, you've made your point. I'll give you a little leeway.
Don't abuse it,
or else."
"...Or else what?" Quark asked, a measure of fear trickling in.
"Why don't you use your boundless imagination?" Odo leaned back.
I opened my mouth to respond when his communicator beeped. On its own, I wasn't sure what it meant, but the sharp reaction from the constable put me on edge.
"Odo here, what's the emergency?" He replied swiftly.
Sisko's voice promptly responded with ill tidings. "Odo, Dax and General Iktoh were just attacked by unknown assailants."
I went stiff. The whole world seemed to narrow down to a single point.
"Attacked?" Odo said. "How many were there? Where was it? What do they want?"
"Dax, it seems. They're kidnappers with
far too much knowledge about the station." Sisko explained. "The general managed to hold them off long enough for Dax to call in before they grabbed her, but-"
"Is my father alright?" I cut in.
I could hear Commander Sisko take a breath over the line. "...Lt. Commander Tahn'yagh, your father has been found alive, but unconscious, with multiple energy weapon burns."
Red creeped in around the edges of my vision.
"Where are they now?" Odo said.
"They're on the move to a ship on the docking ring." Sisko explained "We're trying to lock them down now, but somehow they have command codes to the station. They've managed to set up a cyber attack on the station's computers to cripple whatever we could do to stop them, and what little we have left to put in their way they're managing to bypass. Sending you their location now, Odo."
"Send the Fek'lhr your shield frequencies." I said, forcing myself to concentrate over the rage boiling up in me. "If your transporters aren't working, my ship can beam us right on top of them."
"This is a matter for station security," Odo argued, taking the opportunity to respectably but foolishly assert local jurisdiction.
"They attacked my father," I barely held back a snarl as I prepared to assert my
own jurisdiction, feeling my heart hammer inside my chest. "That makes it a matter of Klingon Honor."
"...Very well, Lt. Commander," Sisko acquiesced over the still active comm. "Whatever you can do to bring our science officer back home safely."
"Oh," I growled, "I will do
more than that, Commander."
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The chime of transporter energy bleed away into nothing, faint pins and needles racing all along my nerves as my body remembered that it was made of flesh and bone, not patterns of coherent energy. I took in a deep breath, filling all three of my lungs with recycled air and forcing a level of control over fury burning in my veins.
It was no small matter. Anger came easy to this new form of mine. Far too easy for my liking. The cultural conditioning of the Klingon Empire only made matters worse in some ways, being a people that often thrived on chaos and violence. Many times this felt like it was more trouble than it was worth.
But not this time.
The airlock door rolled away before me, revealing the three figures trying to make their way onto the ship behind me, and captive they'd dragged along with them.
Jadzia Dax was barely conscious, and the beginnings of an ugly bruise marred her face. She was slumped over, wrapped in the arms of two of the men who'd captured her.
The trio of unfamiliar men surrounding her were all humanoids of an unfamiliar race, though they looked almost entirely human save for ribbed structures forming at the temples and trailing behind the ears. Two of them were tall and muscular, wearing dark uniforms without clear rank, but it was obvious enough they were lackeys. The leader was a shorter man in a lighter suit, armed with a pistol in one hand and a code scanner in the other. Most notably to me were the wounds on him, a bleeding gash on his leg forcing him to limp, a bloody hole where an eye had been gouged out.
On further inspection, none of the men had gotten away free. One of the thugs could barely lift an arm from the wound torn into it, and another was nursing a bruised face and a bleeding gut. If Jadzia was in remotely better condition, and not thoroughly outgunned, she likely could have made an escape on her own.
A measure of pride flickered in my chest. However these men had taken down my father, he had not gone down easily.
A fact made all too clear by the fear and surprise radiating off them when their brains finally caught up with my presence.
"My name is Tahn'yagh of House Zukt'cho. You attacked my father, and abducted a Federation officer," I declared, meeting each and every one of the assailants with a hard glare, hands unsheathing two of the Mek'leth's on my armor. "I will give you one chance to surrender before I start taking limbs."
The two thugs, I saw, were already sagging in defeat, spirits already spent. They turned an eye to their leader, who still yet burned with defiance. I saw it, a moment before it happened, the determination in his eyes. The decision to kill me to accomplish his mission.
An instant later, a beam of high energy crossed the distance between us. A lance of brilliant yellow light screaming out for my death in less than a heartbeat.
Only for it to crash into my personal shield.
The man barely had time to blink in surprise before my hand whipped out. Silver flashed, metal shrieked, and suddenly the man's gun was in sparking pieces on the ground. His hand was impaled against the bulkhead by my thrown blade.
I aimed my other blade at the other two, a fierce grin pulling at my lips as blood howled in my veins. "Please,
give me a reason."
With the Klingon rage singing in my heart as it was, it was all I could do to make sure I followed proper rules of engagement. These fools may have attacked the one man who'd help make something of my life, who'd taken me from the depths of Being X's finely crafted hell and raised me as his daughter, but I couldn't let myself get reckless, no matter how infuriating it was.
General Iktoh is a Klingon war hero, a political chessmaster, and a wise leader. He is my best shot at actually dragging my house and my race into something like rationality and peace. I told myself.
And these damned fools might've killed him!
The chime of another transporter cut through the fog of anger. Twinkling waves of energy coalescing into a collection of familiar figures. Constable Odo and Commander Sisko were at the fore, with a young man in a Federation medical uniform behind him and a couple Bajoran security personnel alongside. Sisko and the security team aimed their phasers at the alien assailants as soon as their bodies finished materializing, a dark scowl on the commander's face and a calculating look on the constable's.
The two thugs gave up after that, releasing Dax into the young doctor's custody and holding their hands up for security to arrest them. For a moment, I saw the leader sag in defeat too, yet still an ember of defiance burned in his eyes.
"Commander! You have to get me away from this crazed maniac!" the unidentified alien shouted.
"Now why would I do that?" Sisko asked, a dangerous mix of anger and determination in his tone. "After all, you
did just try and abduct my science officer
after sabotaging this station. In fact, I'm quite inclined to let Lt. Commander Tahn'yagh finish exactly what she started."
"I think you'll find that
I have a legal warrant for the arrest of the Trill known as Dax! And the Federation has an extradition treaty with Kleastron," the man retorted. "That's more than I can say for this brute!"
I barked out an unkind laugh. "A legal warrant? Extradition? What an incredibly bold lie you spin now that your dishonor has finally gotten you caught."
He scowled. "You can find all the documentation you need on my ship. Something the Kleastron government can verify when you get in contact with them."
"Hmph. If all that
were true, why bother with this charade?" Odo pointed out. "You planned and acted out a tight, high speed, and very expensive plan to abduct Jadzia Dax and whisk her away before anyone could stop you. Not exactly the kind of thing you would need to do if you
actually had the full weight of the law backing you, is it?"
"Dax has escaped justice once before, I couldn't take any chance of it happening again," the man argued. "You see, Commander, my name is Ilon Tandro. Curzon Dax murdered my father, and I can prove it."
Jadzia winced at that, guilt wafting off her as her eyes locked on the man who'd just abducted her. Any other day, I might have cared.
"So you decided to try and kill mine to have your revenge?" I snarled.
Tandro jerked at that. "I-"
"Commander," I cut the failed kidnapper off. "How is my father?"
Sisko turned to the young doctor, who gave me a pensive look. "I'm afraid he's in a coma at the moment. He's still alive, but… he took a lot of phaser blasts. Even on stun, and as a Klingon, at his age it's taken its toll. I'm not sure when he'll wake up."
I slide my gaze back onto Tandro, leveling a smoldering glare at the man who may have taken my father from me.
"Well, Ilon, you wanted Justice?" Sisko asked rhetorically. "Lt. Commander Tahn'yagh, what does the Klingon Empire consider 'Justice' for putting a Dahar Master, a leader of a Great House, and a father in a coma?"
"The Right of Vengeance," I growled.
"Vengeance?" Tandro shouted, fear creeping in over the anger. "You already took my hand! What more do you want from me?"
"I don't want your hand, Petaq," I cursed. "House Zukt'cho wants your head."
"And," Sisko slid back in, doing his best to suppress a smirk, "The Federation
also has an extradition treaty with the Klingon Empire."
At that, Ilon Tandro finally went pale.
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A/n: Surprise. Again. Hadn't thought I'd be doing this instead of updating the other ideas I've already started but...
Well I blame @Sunshine for posting one too many DS9 memes on their discord.
I've actually been nursing this idea for a while, well over a year, so it's actually pretty nice to finally get to posting it.
In case you're wondering, the Fek'lhr class is from the Star Trek Armada series, where it's of the "Science Cruiser" capital ship class, along with the Nebula class. Just looking at it, it looks like it could be based on a Vor'cha too, which is the mainstay Klingon Heavy/Battle Cruiser of the era. Thus I'm basically thinking of it as a fusion of a Nebula and Vor'cha as a basis for specs and abilities, then working my way out from there.
As for what I post next, no idea. Peak season at work has kicked into overdrive so I'm currently getting my ass kicked. The school semester will be done soon, though, so that'll give me a little more free time. I'd like to get at least another chapter of this out before the end of the year, but really I have no idea.
But I will say I had a ton of fun writing it, so another one on the way is likely.
The only thing I don't love is the name...
Meh, problems for later.
Hope ya'll enjoyed. 
