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'
Alexander, Rosa and I are sitting in the family room anticipating a quiet evening of conversation now that the girls are safely in their beds. Only a few days have passed since the Breen conference and I'm still disturbed by their treatment of me. "A dozen baths could not wash their stench from my memory!" I tell my brother.
"Negotiating with other races is not always orderly," Alexander responds, "but the outcome is often well worth the effort. Time will pass and you will soon learn to accept this experience."
"He's the expert," Rosa says with a sigh. I sense she has found it a hard lesson to learn.
"I know. I've seen him in action," I joke.
The annunciator sounds, abruptly ending our conversation and Alexander gets up to answer our caller. I'm surprised when Ga'cho, the Klingon who shuttled me here, steps inside along with a much-younger man.
"I had no idea you lived in such a humble living space until your sister hired me for transport," Ga'cho says after the preambles are out of the way.
His young companion is looking my way and when I meet his gaze, he smiles, baring his teeth. He is attracted to me! Quickly, I avert my eyes. My cheeks grow flush.
"We make do," Alexander says, not the least humbled.
"But isn't it true that as ambassador, you're entitled to live in one of the houses near the Great Hall?"
"It is," Alexander responds, "but there is pride in building ones home. Living out here in the country allows me to interact with those who need my help most. As Klingons, we do not accept handouts."
"Many do not see the Great House as a handout. It is payment for the hard work you do for your people."
"This is really true?" I ask Rosa in a low voice, wondering how she feels about the sacrifices she and the children have made to stay with my brother.
"It's just his way," she responds, shrugging. I sense not only resignation within her, but a deep loyalty and abiding love.
"Child, if you have something to say, share it with the rest of us," the older Klingon says. Gone is his jovial demeanor, replaced by a stern continence. "Klingons do not take kindly to whispers."
I tense up. Despite my upbringing, I'm not used to functioning within a Klingon society. "I'm just surprised to hear of this. Alexander has not spoken of such an offer."
"That's because I have no desire to accept it," my brother responds.
"It is honorable to accept the great gift from your people," the young Klingon says. "By refusing, you insult us!"
"Wet'zel, please," Ga'cho says, raising his hand to stop the younger's tirade. "Let me handle this." He turns his attention back to Alexander. "Forgive my grandson. He is young and impetuous."
"What has brought you here, Ga'cho?" my brother asks. He is annoyed by the lateness of the visit, I realize.
"There is a dispute in Grel Martu. Rhen from the House of Noggar has been injured. He wishes to claim his right to the Hegh'bat ritual. Several members of his House are planning revenge against the House of Bokaz. If you do not immediately intervene, there will be blood on our hands." I sense ambivalence in this Klingon. The idea of a great battle excites him, but he also fears the loss of an old friend. "I do not believe Rhen should end his life. There is fight in him yet."
"You can help defuse this situation. You did right to come to me. Shannara, join us on this journey."
I stand and am three strides toward the door when Rosa hobbles to her feet, her effort slowed by her pregnancy. "Alexander, it's not safe to bring her along! She's still a child." How easily she forgets my immortality.
"Rosa, we cannot coddle her. She knows the ways of the world. Let her see it firsthand."
"Your wife, she is human," Ga'cho states, not intending any condescension. "So we will forgive her for any disgressions of the Klingon way." He turns to Rosa. "Dear lady, we allow our females to fight along side us in our battles. You should know, after much time on our homeworld, that we treat all females as equals."
"Oh really?" Rosa rebukes coolly. "I've heard somewhat differently from Grilka."
"We don't have time for this!" Alexander exclaims. "Let's go before there is nothing left of the House of Noggar."
I brush past the men and only centimeters from Wet'zel, I sense an instinctual lust from him as he scans my body. It is almost predatory. To my advantage, I do not slow my stride, but once I am out of his view, I smile at the notion that someone actually finds me attractive.
As I'm retrieving our coats, Alexander and the other men follow me out to the hall and we head out, Alexander and I slipping on our coats on our way to the shuttlecraft. Alexander takes the Co -pilot's seat next to Ga'cho, obtaining further details about the dispute and leaving me to sit alone with Wet'zel in the passenger section.
"Grandfather told me how beautiful you are," he says to me. "I had to see for myself."
"Thanks," I say a bit embarrassed.
"Will you be staying on Q'ronos?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"It would be a shame if you were to leave before I got the chance to know you. Do you spend much time exercising on the holodeck?"
"Well, I..." Thinking back to when I was a little girl, I remember Father giving me a bat'leth as a birthday present. "It's been a while."
"If you're up for a match some time, I'd enjoy a live opponent."
I've never been asked on a date before. "That sounds stimulating." Inwardly, I cringe at my own words. I sound like my father!
Yet from Wet'zel's reaction, it seems I can say no wrong. "Yes it does." He grins at me, his gaze wandering to my breasts. "I will be entering my third annual bat'leth tournament this year. I may qualify for the Bat'ka Division this year."
"Great. Maybe you can teach me a few moves." My cheeks grow flush. I can't believe what I'm saying! We are both well aware of what sort of moves he wishes to teach me. Question is, do I want him to?
We arrive at the House of Noggar and a tall, husky Klingon named Rodek lets us inside. "Follow me," he says gruffly and leads us into a bedroom where the injured Klingon is arguing with a doctor. The Klingon's maimed arm has been cauterized and bandaged, the gauze stained with his purple blood. I am surprised to see that the doctor is human. Oddly, I can sense nothing from him. Human emotions are usually transparent.
Abruptly, the doctor walks away from his patient to meet us. He is a tall bald man in his fifties. "Alexander Rozhenko, I presume." He holds out his hand for my brother to shake. "Perhaps, you can talk him out of this ridiculous notion to end his life."
"Yes, I'll certainly try," Alexander responds. "Aren't you Dr. Lewis Zimmerman?"
"Actually, I go by the name Van Gough, but I was made in his image."
Not human after all. A hologram. I'd met him once before when we first encountered the Voyager crew. And his program is roughly twenty years old, long outdated by computer standards. Yet he proved his sentience before a Starfleet panel shortly after Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant and had been allowed to serve as a Starfleet Medical officer since. I am perplexed as to how and why he came to be on the Klingon homeworld.
"I'd love to hear your story later, " Alexander says to the doctor. "But first, we must deal with Rhen. How badly was he maimed?"
"The bat'leth sliced just above the wrist. I was unable to reattach the hand, because his comrades didn't take the necessary steps to preserve it. However, he is a perfect candidate for a prosthetic hand....if he doesn't kill himself first."
"That's what I'm here to prevent."
"Good luck," the doctor says with a smug look and steps out of the way.
"I'm not talking to that damn peace loving P'tahk!" Rhen spat. "I have the right to die with honor. My children do not deserve the burden of caring for a crippled man....nor the dishonor."
For someone so badly injured he certainly is loudly spoken, I muse.
"Please, try to calm down and let's discuss this rationally," Alexander says, pulling a stool closer to the bed. "You will not be a burden to your family. In a relatively short time, you could...."
"You want to talk rationally," Rhen says, leaning forward. "My family deserves revenge against the House of Bokaz. They must continue the battle in my place." He winces in pain, though he tries to mask it.
"You must find a way to end this feud before your entire House falls."
"He'll never convince him," Wet'zel says in a low voice, so only I can hear.
I turn my attention to my young companion. "I thought it was rude to whisper with other Klingons in the room." He scowls, obviously not sharing all of his grandfather's values. "You don't know my brother, so I can understand why you have no faith in him."
"I have no faith in resolving a dispute that has been going on since my grandfather was in diapers."
"Please, take this outside," the doctor says, ushering us out of the room. "We don't need to rile the patient any more than he already is."
I glance back at the dishonored one, who is glowing red with his anger and wonder how he could possibly be riled more. Then the door closes on us, leaving Wet'zel and me in the living room.
I hear the sharp sound of metal hitting metal and turn around to see Rodek sharpening his bat'leth. "Do not stare dumbfoundedly child," he says to me. "Rhen's honor is at stake. We must fight the good fight in his place. If you wish to do honorably here, you will take your own weapon and join me."
"I am not of your House. I am not of any House. I will join no fight today." I think about the Q battle that almost ended Grandma's life and wonder if I'm destined to have war follow me wherever I go.
Rodek pauses his sharpening, grimacing. "You choose to dishonor your father, your grand father!"
"I --"
Wet'zel grabs me by the arm forcefully turning me in his direction. Flinching I instinctually bear up to defend myself until I see the almost veiled softness in his eyes.
"You do not realize who he is?" he asks in alarm. His words are spoken so softly I can barely hear him.
"No, should I?"
"He is your father's brother; your uncle!"
"My uncle?! I don't understand. My father never told me he had a brother.
He grasps my wrist. "Keep your voice down," he warns.
"Why?" I ask, my confusion growing. "he doesn't want me to know we're related? Did he and my father have a falling out? Is that why I was never told about him?" The idea sounds logical to me. Father is a very proud Klingon and if Rodek did anything dishonorable to the family, it would account for their estrangement.
"He does not know his true identity. Nearly twenty years ago, he was implanted with the memories of Rodek after his brother, your father, was unable to convince him not to carry out the hegh'bat ritual. His true name is Kurn, son of Mogh."
I glance back at the older man, wondering what events in his previous life as Kurn led to a desire to end his life. "And he lives a normal, happy life now?"
"Yes. The House of Noggar considers him an honored member."
"Then I shall keep my family's secret and remain loyal from afar."
A knock at the door, turns our attention away from each other. Rodek goes to answer it, blade still in hand. Curiously, Wet'zel and I follow closely behind. The door opens to reveal four burly Klingons, all sporting weapons and all old enough to be my grandfather.
"Are you prepared, Rodek, son of Noggar, to seek revenge against those who violated the sanctity of your House?" the one in the forefront asks.
"I am," Rodek responds, flexing his bat'leth and joining the others outside.
The leader turns toward my young companion. "What of you, Wet'zel from the House of Ga'Cho?"
"I would be honored," Wet'zel says and retrieves a blade from the wall mount.
I am left behind like a decoration, not meant to be marred or scratched. Contemplating whether I should let my brother know of this current event, or allow it to proceed without interference, I stand at the entryway in a daze.
Q pops in dressed as a Klingon warrior, his hair down his back and wearing a goatee. "They did not invite you to do battle?" he questions. "How dare they? If only they realized how far superior you are to them."
"I have already seen enough bloodshed, thank you," I reply.
"Ah, a pacifist like your dear brother."
"We are not weak because we choose negotiation over battle. We have more backbone than you'll ever possess."
Q lets out a sharp laugh. "I have been fighting for my beliefs for seven million years and you have the gall to tell me that I have no backbone!"
"Why are you still fighting among yourselves? Why in seven million years has there been no resolution?"
"Q are a stubborn breed. They refuse to accept another way."
I nudge my head in the direction of the room where I let Alexander. "Try my brother's way."
Q nods and with a smirk, says, "Ah, the possibilities." He flashes out, leaving me in the same predicament as before.
Only now I know what I must do. I step into Rhen's room and without hesitation, inform the group, "Rodek and Wet'zel left with four warriors to battle the House of Bokaz.
"That pahtk! Leaving without me," Ga'cho rumbles. Brusquely, he starts for the door, but my brother grabs him by the arm, bringing him to a halt. I had no idea Alexander had such a firm grip!
"Men who behave rashly wind up resting under an epitaph. Today is not a good day for anyone to die."
"No, it is not," Van Gough agrees in a low, but harsh voice. He is running a medical tricorder over the now-sleeping Rhen. "Please be quiet so my patient may rest."
Alexander nods understandingly in the doctor's direction before continuing in a much-softer tone. "Do not charge into battle alone. Allow me to serve as referee and there will be no more bloodshed."
He sounds so confident, but I haven't a clue as to how he expects to end the dispute with mere words. "I'm going with you," I say, determined to find out.
To my surprise, Alexander doesn't argue. "All right. I can use another mind to help defuse the situation."
"And my patient and I will greatly appreciate the peace," Van Gough says.
As we leave, Ga'cho grabs his bat'leth. My brother and I walk out to the shuttlecraft armed only with our wit and courage. Ga'cho brings the shuttlecraft up high above the trees and takes us across lakes and mountains to the House of Bokaz, some two hundred kilometers distance.
"Do not land the shuttle," Alexander instructs.
"How do you expect to negotiate, then? Or have you abandoned that notion for more efficient phaser fire?"
"No, but it is wiser to use our commchannel while we keep our distance. They will be more susceptable to negotiation if they are unable to strike us."
Ga'cho chuckles. "That is why you have the job of peacemaker and not I. You use your brain before your fists." The old Klingon brings the shuttlecraft to a halt and switches on the viewscreen. A brutal sight unfolds before us as the Houses of Noggar and Bokaz battle for reign of the surrounding land.
"Cease fire!" Alexander says through the commchannel. True to their nature, no Klingon slows his thrusts and parries. To do so would mean sudden death. "Think about your wives and children. All your loved ones. Is this how you want them to remember you, in a bath of blood?"
Of course, despite their grief, any Klingon woman would honor their husband's memories forever if they died such a valiant death. Alexander knows this better than I do and yet he talks as though their emotions will sway their actions. Wet'zel backs away from his opponent and courageously tosses his weapon aside.
Alexander turns toward Ga'cho. "Quickly! Beam him up!"
The transporter beam envelopes Wet'zel just as his opponent intends to strike. "I'm a coward!" Wet'zel spits as he steps off the transporter pad.
"It's not your fight," I remind him.
"No time for this dispute!" Ga'cho growls. "Rodek has been injured."
Swiftly, Alexander beams our uncle onto our shuttle and we rush to his side. He is conscious, but bleeding profusely from a chest wound. "I can heal him," I admit to the group. This man is virtually a stranger to me and yet I feel a strong affinity toward him.
"How?" Wet'zel asks.
I glance from him to Alexander, wondering if my brother will allow me to perform my miracle. Or would he rather let our uncle die to uphold his principles? "We haven't much time," I remind him.
"Beam him directly to the House of Noggar," Alexander orders. "Dr. Van Gough will treat him."
"And he will die!" I exclaim. Without warning, I place my hands upon Rodek's bloody chest and summon the power of the Q to instantly heal his wound.
"What is she doing?!" Ga'cho demands. He pushes me away from my uncle and I land hard against the wall. "This is not the way of the warrior. You have disgraced your family." He turns toward my brother. "You claimed to know how to end this dispute honorably and I trusted you. You should have allowed Rodek to die with honor."
"Ga'cho," Rodek says in a hoarse voice, but is unable to say anymore.
"Can't you see, you must give up this death ritual," Alexander argues. "Before there are no more Houses left standing."
While Ga'cho and my brother continue arguing, Wet'zel kneels down by my side. "Are you all right?" he asks.
"Yes." I sit up fully. "Only my pride was hurt."
"How did you heal your uncle?"
"It's a long, complicated story," I say enigmatically. "Maybe I should have let him die. Now I've probably marred my family name for generations to come." "No, I do not believe so."
As his argument with Ga'cho escalates, Alexander takes the liberty of beaming the other members of the House of Noggar on board our small shuttlecraft. Though angered by their sudden rescue, the warriors are too weak from their injures to put out much of a fight. Begrudgingly, Ga'cho returns us to the House of Noggar where Dr. Van Gough is perturbed by his growing triage.
Wet'zel and I again find ourselves waiting out in the living area. "Don't worry, Shannara Rozhenko, granddaughter of Mohg," he tells me. "You have not marred your family name in my eyes. My invitation is still open if you'd like to join me in a holo simulation some time.
I smile for the first time during this endeavor. "I'd like that."
