| Fire on High
no Klingon content Tales of the Dominion War What Dreams May Come by Michael Jan Friedman Gilaad Ben Zoma, with aid of Picard and Enterprise capture Vorta Sejeel on Illarhi. Early in war. Secure a weapons depot. Dominion War 1 Behind Enemy Lines by John Vornholt 3 Derek had been a freelance smuggler and weapons runner but Ro Laren had won him over to the Maquis cause. The Fed, the Klingons, they’re getting crushed right and left. Jem’Hadar invincible. Cardassian fleet rebuilt. Maquis try to negotiate with Cardassians that they are neutral. Ro was a legend to the Maquis. One of their greatest heroes. the Cardassian-Klingon War brought the Maquis relative peace. 31 life became peaceful for the Maquis after the Klingons went to war with the Cardassians, and Starfleet was fighting the Borg and others. Everyone forgot about Maquis. They were even able to return to some of their old settlements. Ro used to grow tomatoes. When the Dominion came, they rearmed the Cardassians and turned them loose on their old enemies. Maquis tried to be neutral , like the Bajorans, because they were all tired of fighting. Didn’t work. They destroyed our settlements and massacred us by the thousands. Maquis just a bunch of pathetic refugees. 50 Klingon woman, lean, with scars over most of her body, a prisoner of the Dominion, building artificial wormhole. Trill engineer collaborator Professor Enrak Grof, captured during the fall of DS 9, does deserve to be gutted with a dull Klingon knife. His work was more important to him than his honor, hissed the Klingon woman. He may not have a worm inside of him, but he is a worm. 59 Sam Lavelle reminded himself that a handful of Changelings had nearly destroyed the Klingon Empire from within. 94 Ro had once smuggled some out of Quark’s place on DS 9 to buy the release of Maquis prisoners. One of the Jem’Hadar battle cruisers had gone into orbit around Kreel VI, uninhabited planet. Heavy gravity. 163 remnants of space station in Badlands. Maquis called it OK Corral. Pirates Ferengi Shek and Orion Rolf 240 the Klingons gave Riker a dandy scar when he served aboard the Pagh, and it’s in a place few people get to see. Dominion War 3 Tunnel Through the Stars by John Vornholt 53 Death Valley, a fabled region of derelict ships, it had once been a Maquis hideout, it was considered too dangerous to visit by the time Ro joined. 103 the Targ was in and out of Starbase 209 in two days, severe damage repaired. Klingon captain made complaints about head of station repair facilities Commander Shana Winslow right away. 212 Picard remembered where he had hidden the 3 Klingon disruptors they had taken off the dead Romulans, a Klingon disruptor, green, sleek and deadly looking, the handle seemed to mold to his grip. Picard stuck the disruptor into his phaser holster. 252 the Klingon disruptor in his hand wrecked terrible vengeance. Gripping the disruptor with both hands, he let it spit its red flame over and over again. Sam felt like a one-man wrecking crew as he swept the place with disruptor fire. Scorpion Part II B’E takes over Harry’s position while he’s down. A Time To Stand 3 months of war. After mission Sisko wants to go right back to the front lines. Martok comes in holding left arm – Well said, Captain, and my ship will be at your side. Worf comes in after him, Jadzia jumps into Worf’s arms. Martok urges Worf to tell her, Worf says it can wait, Martok insists no it cannot. Martok orders a raktajino. Martok – It’s been weighing heavily on his mind. Worf – It is about our wedding. You have scheduled the ritual sacrifice of the targ to occur after the wedding feast has been served. Jadzia – We haven’t seen each other in 5 weeks and that’s the first thing you say to me? Worf – We agreed it would be a traditional ceremony. Jadzia – OK, first we’ll shed blood, then we’ll feast. Worf – as it should be Martok – He has been unable to talk of anything else for days. Jadzia – He’s such a worrier. See ya latter, Captain. Sisko – try not to break any bones. Martok wiggles his left forearm – Now that that is settled I’m going to take care of this. Klingons make great warriors, but terrible doctors. Martok upset that only 14 ships out of 112 of 7 th fleet made it back. Bashir tends to Martok’s arm. The war with the Klingons left Cardassia a third rate power. Novelization by Diane Carey 36 Klingon birds of prey and heavy cranes 41 you have scheduled the ritual sacrifice of the tar’g to occur after the wedding feast has been served. Worf a Klingon who had lived about as untraditional a life as any ever had. 44 Martok was back. The doctor can look at my arm later. It is a time for us brilliant masters of strategy to talk to each other. He tapped a locking code into the mess hall entry panel. The Klingon general was completely unintimidated by Sisko’s undisguised rage. He picked up Sisko’s toppled mug. You didn’t finish your raktajino. I’ll get you more. And went to the replicator. Sit down, Captain, and we’ll discuss the weather. This table or my boot could be a disguised Founder. Our enemies can disguise themselves as my hair if they want to. Not a boot or plate has come to life. I see few advantages, Martok bluntly said. The Dominion has been doing this for a long time. The Jem’Hadar are as expendable to the Dominion as the ends of our fingernails are to us. Martok sat back and contemplated Sisko. The scouring look was clear, Sisko was being surveyed as either a desperate maniac or a distraught mid-rank officer who had snapped onto a whole new level of ruthless creativity. For a few minutes there was silence as Martok let him simmer. Martok – I would never take a promotion that would put me in an office with no ship under me. I thought you would never take such a thing either. Martok’s arm was hurt when his ship was attacked by 5 Jem’Hadar ships. Martok had three ships, but we vanquished them completely. All 5 destroyed, and I lost no ships and only 42 men. In the Argolis Cluster. A moon and the old outpost upon it. A former Orion processing station, the Jem’Hadar have turned it into a parts and repair bunker. They defended it ferociously. We were able to take out 5 ships and lose none of our 3. I was very proud. We picked up a faint emission and tracked it to this parts bunker. There are several set up in a grid across the Argolis area. Forget it Captain. Not worth considering. I would never have fought had I not been surprised. Not for a prize of stone. It was completely automated. The Dominion sent 5 Jem’Hadar fighters to guard one little unmanned facility. Well, apparently. Martok found the repair facilities, they were sending out some kind of emission that they tracked, a signaling or homing beacon for Jem’Hadar ships who have been damaged and can’t find the facility themselves. Or a grid of sensors Squinting the eye, Martok didn’t follow Sisko’s line. Martok sat still for a second, then another second, and a third. His voice rumbled in his throat without making words then he sat bold upright. Already thinking of how to knock the thing out, Martok continued. Such an array would pick up the movements of an attack squadron. Sisko proposes he and Martok work to take out the Dominion sensor array quietly, just themselves. Martok – We could, Captain, be working against the plans of others if we fail to consult with our higher commands. Captain Sisko, my friend, you are talking about maneuvers and actions which could lead to a court-martial for you. Martok – And I saw only the one outpost. We picked up at least four more signals. Sisko – you take your ship, only one ship, and go check our theory. Martok raised his glass and clicked it on Sisko’s – I shall be gone in one hour. And while I fly back into the dragon’s teeth, you, my friend, will be doing what? Rocks and Shoals 87 Martok finds the Argolis Cluster peppered with sensor stations. We made a pact, captain. This would be between you and me. times are difficult when we cannot trust the chairs we sit in. Sisko – General, do something for me, pass this information along to Starfleet Intelligence and recommend it go to Admiral Ross. If it comes through me, it’ll be too obvious. Martok – you want Ross to get this? I hope you have a warrior’s luck, Captain, for this is a badly balanced bat’leth with which you fight. Sisko – you right, but what else can we do? Martok – Most true, what else? 106 In the Jem’Hadar ship, the Klingon might not care even to answer a hail before blasting away. Jadzia severely injured in crash of Jem-Hadar ship. Sons and Daughters Novelization by Diane Carey 222 in wartime, the harborlights of safe haven were like an old-time cook fire to the hungry mind. SB 375 General Martok glanced with satisfaction at the success of his fighter wing and his flagship, which he himself chose to command Rotarran an old ship, proven and strong, he preferred it to any other A fine training ship, small enough to handle, simple enough for raw recruits complex enough to make them into good spacefarers Klingons had for centuries conditioned themselves to be conquerors, to surge forward against all obstacles, even sensations of sympathy for the targets of their overbearance But now things were different Martok did nothing more than engage in reverie of Klingon superiority for days The alliance with the Fed was preferable. He had never resented Starfleet as had so many of his peers. He admired them. Generally the Fed was made up of physically weak races who could not stand up one to one against stronger races such as Klingons. But banded together in a common goal they had been strong indeed and relentless in their purpose. That was to be admired more than physical training. Brains mattered. Only fools believed otherwise Martok had never allowed himself to respect the foolish, no matter how fools prospered When the enemy was strong and winning, spirits were kept high by small jumps Martok was pleased to have cast his net and saved Sisko A perfectly healthy Jadzia energetically kisses Worf. he enthusiastically kisses her neck. Just one more thing, about the wedding, when we exchange our vows you must remember to present your d’k tahg to General Martok as a formal request for him to accept you into our house. Jadzia teases Worf that she doesn’t want to join Martok’s house, get caught up in all those blood feuds. Every time a member of the House of Martok gets dishonored or killed I’ll have to drop whatever I’m doing and rush off on some quest for vengeance. It’s boring, Worf. if she refuses to join the House of Martok, it will be a grave dishonor, Martok will not understand. Worf – I can see our lives together will not be easy. Jadzia – True. But they’ll be fun. Ch’Targh, helmsman, docking at Bay 11 Small Klingon bridge Martok could hear O’Brien and Bashir in the back. A commander on a ship became attuned to any noise on his bridge. He enjoyed their squeamishness over Klingon food. Singing until all hours of the night, bothers Bashir One more ballad about the honored dead He added a little flicker of his remaining eye, to Sisko, indicating that the two of them would speak privately later There was enough to do, there was time to connive Sisko – Once again, thank you for rescuing us. Martok – Huh, try not to get too comfortable lounging around the starbase. Martok is a betting man, one of his many pleasures Sisko – A barrel of bloodwine says I’ll set foot on Deep Space Nine before you do. Martok – Done! They grasp forearms and shake. Sisko negotiated a good grip of agreement Martok’s wingship Lach needs immediate hull plating repair or they’ll be down for weeks. 5 New recruits for Rotarran expected at the Starbase, they are already to board the Vor’Nak, raft up to Rotarran, Vor’Nak can transfer Sisko and crew over to the Starbase shuttle station. Martok requested 15. General Tanas could only send 5. Ch’Targh, you heard. Taking orbital attitude, General. Kich’ta, tell the crew they’ll have to wait a day for shoreleave They’ll be irritated Martok chuckled – Good. Order my lunch. Martok moved slowly through his ship to the mess hall. Checking on details, speaking to crewmen, dipping in to areas to assess damage and encourage repairs He could hear the subtle crunch of clamps on the outer hull and the gush of the umbilical systems rafting the two ships together according to Starfleet safety regulations, which demanded more exacting care and extra attachments than most Klingon crews bothered to employ A cold plate of gagh was waiting for him at his table in the mess hall, the delectable life-forms just coming out of their stasis stupor. Put his utensil to the fat worms. Barely moving. I’d give my good eye for a plate of fresh gagh. Commander Worf strode in with his usual grouchy demeanor War is much more fun when you’re winning Defeats make my wounds ache Pat’leh pum tlih-takk! In keeping with custom the new recruits came to the general instead of he to them. They formed a line and tried to appear appropriate, but Martok and Worf simply gaped at them while sharing a thread of disheartenment, these were warriors? Two whiskerless youths, two teenaged girls, and a stooped old man. Uch. Martok sucked back his comments and moved forward, Worf, the coward, remained behind May you prove worthy of this ship and bring honor to her name Look at their faces! They’re in shock! This is a glorious moment in the history of the Empire, a chapter that will be written with our blood. Fight well, and our people will sing your praises for a thousand years. Fail, and there will be no more songs, no more honor, no more Empire. Who among you hears the cry of the warrior calling you to glory? Clumsily they all raised their fists and shouted Qapla! One pounds chest before extending fist. Well, at least they had been coached Martok followed the script – Who offers their life for the Empire? In turn, each recruit stepped forward and announced N’Garan! Daughter of Tsk’Dek! Young girl Katogh, son of Ch’Pok! male Koth! Son of Larna! Elderly male Doran, daughter of W’mar! female Alexander Rozhenko! Worf spoke out of place, out of the traditional script The boy was returning Worf’s glare with frozen eyes Of what house is Rozhenko? Of no house, sir. My honor will be my own Worf stiffened, but said nothing more. Ah, trouble There will be much honor for the taking on this ship, enough for all of you. I accept your lives into my hands. Glory to you and to the Empire! With visible effort Worf recovered his composure and barked- Dismissed! DIH Gom HaH! Pih-lod rach-WIH Dev-VO yI-ghoS It had been easy to suspect that Alexander was Worf’s son. Martok - Such trials are a strain on a small ship. Perhaps you would like a transfer back to the Defiant. Worf – No, My son’s coldness will never push me from my duty Martok – He will be distracted enough, and so will you. We have orders at last. Escort a convoy to Donatu V. Ordinarily such news would be welcome for idle Klingons but Martok saw a crimp in Worf’s expression and instantly understood. Worf was involved in plans to be married also his child was now aboard. The boy was here now, and no parent could think that clearly The last three convoys sent to Donatu V were destroyed by the Jem’Hadar. This one must get through. The Rotarran is all the High Council can spare. Martok smiled with anticipation. A vital mission! Impossible odds and a ruthless enemy! What more could we ask for? I tell you Worf, I feel young again. Mission Briefing on padd. Start battle drills immediately, train them hard. Worf’s job. By the time we join the convoy this crew will have the reflexes of a Norpin Falcon. We have shed blood together, escaped from a Jem’Hadar prison together, you have pledged yourself and your life to my house, yet in all this time, you never mentioned you had a son. Deeply disturbed, Worf scanned the deck. It is a difficult subject to discuss That much is obvious Worf wanted to leave, Martok knew, but a question had been posed and it would eat at them both until the answers came, one way or another. Rather than let his exec off the hook, Martok stood silent and waited until the air around them began to crackle. Worf – Alexander and I were never close. His mother was only half Klingon and was disdainful of our ways. Martok – I see, you allowed her to raise the boy Worf- No, General, she was killed, when he was very young. He spent a short time with me aboard the Enterprise. After that, I sent him to live with my foster parents on Earth. Why? He showed no interest in becoming a warrior. It was difficult but I learned to accept it and in time, I encouraged him to follow his own path. Worf does not know why Alexander joined the Klingon Defense Force, they have not spoken So instincts were right, this had been a complete surprise, not just a disagreement or an order disobeyed. Martok raised his stiff arm and placed a hand on Worf’s shoulder. My friend, this is not good. When a father and son do not speak, it means there is trouble between them By this, they both knew, Martok was offering to act between the two in some way, to quell the turbulence or take Worf’s place as the boy’s trainer until things changed. When ice formed between members of a house serving on the same ship, the result could be clumsiness at best and at worst, disaster. As commander it was Martok’s prerogative to push between them Worf’s response was not really a surprise – I prefer to handle this in my own way Martok – Then do so. And that, they both knew, was an order Bekk Alexander reports to Worf as ordered. Worf was looking at picture of Alexander in simple frame. Worf – you have grown. Alexander – So I’ve been told. Worf – How are your grandparents? Alexander – your parents were in good health when last I saw them. Worf – Do they know you are here? Alexander – they weren’t pleased about my decision, but once they realized I was determined to enlist they supported me as they always have. Worf – I know we have not seen each other for some time, but let us talk as father and son Alexander – I am not here to call you father. I am here to serve the empire. Worf – the Empire was not one of your priorities when last we spoke. Alexander – As you say, that was some time ago. Worf – Did you think enlisting would please me? Alexander – Pleasing you did not enter into my decision. With all due respect sir, does this conversation have any bearing on my duties aboard this ship? Worf – Stop pretending to be a warrior. We both know you do not belong here. You heard what I expect from the crew, twice that I expect from you. Martok left the mess hall because he knew it would soon be time for the crew to eat and they were uneasy if he ate with them. Went to his quarters The unfortunate realities of superior rank Computer locates crew members, supplies pictures of the mess hall while keeping the mess hall screens dark. Visual of the mess hall on line. Eavesdropping, an unethical but effective tactic, one of Martok’s favorites. Privacy was for women in childbirth He ordered a mug of war nog Focused his working eye on the smoky room, crew crowded to the tables, drinking, eating, snarling stories to each other and laughing harshly. They had heard the news, a new mission was coming, a fresh chance at glory, a chance to strike again at the claws of the Dominion. Sprits were high. Rotarran flies cloaked amongst bulky segmented cargo freighters, three. Alexander Rozhenko, narrow of shoulder and small of countenance Collect meal at dispersal unit in back corner, cups on table beside unit, barrel in entrance alcove off mess hall. Alexander eats bregit lung, no grapok sauce Ch’Targh had no children and was intolerant of the children of others Is this seat taken, a very Earthly phase To an old warrior like Ch’Targh it would ring of past stresses with humans and the shame of the Empire at having been contained by the Fed for so many decades Martok grunted a laugh and wished he could be there I’m honored, the boy responded, like an idiot The honor is ours, please. Ch’Targh was actually standing up! As if the boy deserved the seat! Martok instantly saw the rippling snicker that ran around the table, but apparently the boy saw none of it Who could make such a show! Grapok sauce in wide mouth bottle. One of the female recruits began laughing and the joke was out. Alexander snapped around to her – Why are you laughing? Ch’Targh- Or perhaps the son of our illustrious first officer would prefer an earth beverage. A glass of root beer, a lump of ice cream The raft of Klingons dissolved into roars of laughter and table pounding Alexander straightened – Are you mocking me? Ch’Targh’s snaggled teeth showed – Why would I mock you, son of Worf Alexander – I am called Rozhenko Ch’Targh – I will call you whatever I please, and you will learn to like it Alexander got to his feet, plate in hand, to move to another table. For someone who had never really been among Klingons, his self-control was unenviable Ch’Targh – Does the son of Starfleet’s finest think he is too good to eat with us? Alexander’s breaking point had arrived – No, have some lung. He dumped his entire plate into Ch’Targh’s face, hits Ch’Targh in face with thick metal plate, dumping food, but puts emptied plate back down on table. Enjoying all this Martok reeled back with laughter Big even for a Klingon, Ch’Targh Face off in middle of mess hall. Ch’Targh – I do not like your smile, perhaps I will cut you a new one Ch’Targh drew his own dagger. The secondary blades of Ch’Targh’s dagger snapped out for work. Alexander showed his inexperience by drawing his ceremonial dagger. Ridiculous. Martok chuckled with satisfaction. None of this would have happened if their general had been in the mess hall with them Alexander was quick and small. Ch’Targh was especially graceful for a large man, even languid. Any posturing was simply meant to intimidate the boy. Martok recognized the drama. The others urged them to bloodshed but no one interfered. Ch’Targh made circles with his blade. This was too much for the boy who finally flew forward with a clumsy thrust Alexander splattered to the floor on his ignominious part The Klingons erupted with joy. Alexander gets thrown back, into arms of encircling crew. He fights like a Ferengi In that moment, Alexander came to his feet and nicked Ch’Targh’s arm before the veteran could pivot aside Oh, very bad judgement, and bad timing. Martok commented. He should make this a training tape Shakk-Tah! – Ch’Targh swore, a big Klingon yes, but a low tolerance for pain Alexander attempted another swipe at his tormentor but Ch’Targh avoided it again and smashed the heel of his free hand into the boy’s face, driving him back to the wall, dazing him like a stricken sparrow and leaving the boy’s face bleeding freely Your combat training has been sadly neglected, little one. I will teach you a new lesson, one that you will not soon forget. Martok imagined the scar Alexander would soon be sporting for the rest of his life Worf stepped in and caught Ch’Targh’s arm Martok moaned – Better the scar than this. Worf’s judgment was no better than his son’s apparently. Worf backhanded the helmsman with a closed fist and sprawled him on the floor. Worf turned to his son but the boy was venomous Alexander – You had no right to interfere! Martok commented in the privacy of his eavesdropping – That’s right. Good boy. Worf orders both to medical ward, then remain in quarters until next watch. And orders the rest back to their stations now. Martok muttered – They’ll resent that. We must adjust your people skills Alexander scowled and put his blade in its dagger, then stalked away from his father. Ch’Targh – Are you going to fight the Jem’Hadar for him as well? Martok to bridge – Disengage from the Vor’Nak immediately. Inform the harbormaster we will take on supplies out here in orbit, then depart immediately for the Donatu Sector. I am tired of waiting and I think the crew is also. And then tell Worf to begin training exercises. Our first officer needs to concentrate. Four days into the transit to Donatu. Two more until they reach the system Martok called Worf to his quarters on the bluff of reviewing the training leg, that meant he was obliged to actually look at the log, name after name, response after response time, for a few minutes and make a comment. Worf stood before his desk. Keep working them. Sit down. Martok poured Worf a nog and one for himself from metal pitcher into mugs Martok – There’s only one thing I hate about convoy duty. The waiting. After all these years, you’d think I’d be used to it. But nothing is better for breaking tension than a tankard of war nog. Except maybe, a good brawl. That comment set Worf into a glare Martok heard about the fight in the mess hall, but not from my first officer, I lost him the moment his son stepped aboard this ship Martok looked up from a good long slug of drink It is not easy to stand aside and watch someone injure your son, Martok offered, and managed to soothe some of the crispness from Worf’s expression. Ch’Targh might’ve cut him a little, maybe broken a few bones, but nothing more. You are his first officer, Worf, teach him to survive! Only moments later, Martok would have offered to train Alexander himself, for this might be more effective. Then at least the boy would not be first fighting to climb the mountain of his resentments for his father. The ship’s general alarm The comm unit bellowed Battlestations! Alert status one! Captain to the bridge. Martok clumped onto the bridge, behind him, Worf stormed along as they both landed on the command deck Alexander at sensor array, the boy reported nervously N’Garan at engineering and long range sensors, trying to cover her unease with volume. Switching to manual. Trial by fire. Good enough. Better than squabbling in the mess hall Worf glared at the screen Reroute primary sensors to weapons controls Aye, sir. Dutifully responded. Martok was pleased by that. The boy was not so immature as to let his personal irritations keep him stony while at work Drop cloak, raise shields, evasive action. Frantically the crew complied. The ship lurched as inertial dampers struggled to catch up Reinitialized primary sensors Worf growled – Of course it is gone. You forgot to erase the battle simulation program from the sensor display! The boy stared in devastation at his control board, his shoulders hunched in horror of embarrassment Stand down from alert status, reactivate cloak. Only more irritating than the stupid mistake was Ch’Targh’s grin as the helmsman stood up, moved to Alexander’s side, and sat down there – Keep a close watch. There may be more hostile simulation programs out there. Ch’Targh dropped a rough hand on Alexander’s shoulder and laughed unremittingly. The rest of the crew were laughing now. Martok watched without interference. When a shadow passed over his good eye, he launched his gauntletted hand and stopped Worf from crossing in front of him. Wait, he ordered quietly. He will never make that mistake again. Ch’Targh – At least you’re keeping us on our toes. Martok found reason now to laugh also, and there was something about the laughter that communicated belonging to Alexander rather than resistance, for the boy began to sheepishly smile. The ship’s fool Hoping not to make their departure too obvious, Martok circled the long way around the bridge, peeking at some readouts here and there, making new recruits nervous, and finally led the way around to his ready room door. He clomped inside Worf – A father has no need to consult a son regarding wedding plans. The house structure of Klingon family goes from parents to child, not the other way around. Martok – My friend, you make your own troubles Worf – I have so little ability to make relationships go smoothly, I find myself fortunate to have found a woman who fits so well into so many cultures. She is young! Martok – Why are you shouting? Worf – I do not know. Martok – Well, I do. Marry your woman and train your son. Embrace them both as part of your private world. Let them know they are part of each other through you. Pull down the fences between you. A wedding is just a wedding, Worf, not a state occasion. You fret too much about details. You embrace tradition frantically, but you forget why we have traditions. Not for the sake of having tradition, certainly. Even if all tradition is thrown into the warp core, when all is over, you will be married and Jadzia will be one of my house. And your son, if he wishes, will be one of my house too. He will grow up, he will change. Time works on a young man. You want him to change in the next ten minutes. Forget that! You did not grow up in a day. I did not grow up in a day. Why do you expect your son to come here and grow up today? My friend, you are a manufactured Klingon. You were raised by humans who tried to give you an idea of being Klingon, but it was a human idea of what Klingons are. They tried, I never deny that they tried, but they were still humans looking inward from afar. This is why you struggle and why you cling to details of tradition too much. There is no mold for behavior that comes in a bottle and has ‘Klingon’ stamped upon the label and which will sour if not refrigerated. Alexander was raised the same way. Among humans, with a sense of unbidden guilt that he is not Klingon enough. Perhaps it’s not you he resents, but being too much like you. I don’t know, I am no ship’s counselor. You think he resents you? Worf - He told me so. Martok – He lies. He lies to himself. Worf looked quite disturbed. Even hurt – Why would you say this to me? Martok – To destroy and diminish you and give Ch’Targh your job. Worf! Wake up! Alexander tells himself he resents you. Then he tells it to you, so he gets an upper hand for a while. Every teenager does such things. Every young hawk going from the nest first wants to fly around the nest and deny those who built it. Martok fixed a responding glare on him, then scolded him further with a thump of his flat hand on the table. Martok – Well, further be confused by this, your son was assigned to the Tur’Nask. He requested transfer. He was given transfer to the Gurshk. He again requested transfer, he was finally assigned to Rotarran. Fuming over this news, even Worf seemed to be warmed by it – He should be transferred, then he could concentrate on his work. Any work other than being my son, or not being my son. Martok – Father and son should ship together eventually, but after each is secure in his purpose. Oh, we will somehow fail to tell Alexander that the transfer is temporary. Are we clever? Or cowards? I don’t know. We’ll send him to another ship to become a real crewman, if that suggests itself as the best way. Despite the harassment he receives in your shadow, I have received no request for transfer from Alexander, and that tells me a great deal. The young hawk circles you. For now be proud, and show him the way to fly. 248 Sisko - Martok has been involved with recruiting more Klingons for his cause with Sisko and training younger warriors for active duty. Worf will expect those young Klingons to accept some version of Starfleet regulation in order to work as our allies. Worf had been tight-lipped but I can tell he isn’t happy. A shipload of recruits and an unhappy Worf, Martok’s got his hands full. The general just finished secretly charting all the stations in that sensor array in the Argolis area and funneling that information through Starfleet Intelligence to Admiral Ross. The training room was a dark environment, mimicking as closely as possible the confines of a dim and damaged ship. Martok had trouble focusing on the scene being displayed by his personal monitor in his quarters. Better to eavesdrop here than in his ready room or anywhere else. The bulkheads here were soundproof, the door locked, and orders not to disturb him unless an emergency were in effect. So he could quietly interfere upon his turbulent first officer and the turbulent offspring who would soon be a member of Martok’s own house. Worf trains recruits in kar’takin pole, weapon favored by the Jem’Hadar Mistakes, mistakes, Worf had the finesse of a nova Martok found himself paying closer attention to Worf’s subtleties of temper than Alexander’s movements. The movements of defense and offense would come around with age, size, and experience Worf’s truncated mental methods bore tending. If Worf failed to rein his personal troubles, he would soon be ineffective as a dependable first officer. Any officer with a child on board had divided considerations. That was a fact of shipboard life. Martok watched with mild interest at the uninventiveness of the young mind. Alexander seemed not to know what to do. He snapped into a nearly perfect bat’leth stance. Martok winced with annoyance as the comm system enhanced the sound it did not recognize. That should be fixed. Who was the duty engineer this morning? The boy foolishly argued. If he knew, then do it! Worf was engulfed in his own battle for reasonableness. Martok shook his head, no it was not the boy who was failing Worf – If you had kept practicing what I taught you when you were a boy Alexander picked up his weapons and whirled on his father without warning, a fury of wild swipes and thrusts flew at Worf, who easily blocked and parried them, but a pattern of shock was rising on Worf’s face. The boy’s fanatic hostility was disturbing. He was flailing at Worf not with experience or determination, but with raw disdain. Alexander – I knew it would be like this. You must be pleased. Now you can tell me what a failure I am as a Klingon. Or are you just going to send me away again? The Jem’Hadar will cut me to pieces, then I will be dead and you will be happy. Now leave me alone. Ah, Martok tilted his head and listened for clues. That was one, being sent away. A guttural chuckle rose in Martok’s throat. Such typical resistance. The wild imaginings and carrying too far of a teenage mind. The spouting of statements that were perfectly ridiculous and everyone knew it. The significance of Alexander’s declaration had nothing to do with the message of the words. Martok chuckled again. Worf appeared so deflated and confused. Worf had never raised children. Martok had raised seven. Some were warriors, some were not. Some were better at other things. If everyone was a warrior, who would do the other things? What was to be done now? Wait a few hours, then do what every good commander does best. Butt in. Alexander looked exhausted at Martok slipped into the training room. The boy was in the middle of the mats, moving through a training exercise with his bat’leth, simulated evening light. His movements were clumsy, his limbs sluggish, and when he noticed Martok standing there watching him, he began the series of movements again but without any better skill. In fact, tension gripped the boy and his bat’leth slid right out of his hands and barely missed a surgical maneuver on Alexander’s foot Martok stooped, picked up the weapon, and naturally balanced it in his left hand – Fine blade, well balanced. But in the end it is only as good as the warrior who wields it. Alexander – I need more practice. Martok internally laughed at himself. Cliches. Stating the obvious. The harbor of a bored and grumbling grandfather who wished he were a father again. Hah! That was funny too. Alexander struggled between meeting his general’s eyes and not daring to meet them Rest a moment, Martok told him reasonably. Tell me, Alexander Rozhenko, why are you on my ship? The boy drew himself up straight – To serve the Empire Disgusting. Martok set the bat’leth back on the weapons rack, bat’leths and straight swords hung point down – that is a slogan, not an answer. Say what is in your heart. Martok pointed to his heart. Perhaps the evenness of Martok’s voice made the boy uneasy. No, he was already uneasy. But certainly, Alexander, raised among humans, was used to the image of a Klingon grunting and roaring and barking and generally bulldozing his way through life. He felt the natural surges of adrenaline to which Klingons were more susceptible, but his human restraint made him balk when he found a restrained Klingon. Martok’s quiet words seemed to both calm and confuse the boy. But why should every sentence be spat like venom? What a waste of energy Alexander twitched - Do you question every new crewman thiiis way? Feigning anger Martok – I have no need to. I look in their faces and I know why they’re here. They are Klingon warriors. They have answered the call of Kahless. Alexander – So have I! Martok – Lie to yourself if you must, but not to me. You do not hear the warrior’s call. Shuddering now Alexander lowered his eyes – I’d rather not say. It’s a private matter. Martok – You are as tight-lipped as your father Alexander – I am nothing like him! Allowing himself to explode, perhaps behaving stereotypically would actually relax the boy Martok roared – You are both stubborn, tiresome Qu’vatlh! the only difference is, he grew abruptly calm again. I need him. But I don’t need you. Alexander anxiously – All I ask is a chance to prove myself. Martok – I just gave you one. And you failed. You father has requested that you be transferred off this ship. Alexander flared – He had no right! Martok – He has every right. Both as your superior officer and as your father. At 23:17 you will transport to the cargo vessel Par’tok. Collect your gear. Now. A good lie was as powerful as any blow. Some story would be contrived about how the cargo ship was detained or boarded, captured, something. Meanwhile the boy would either sulk, thereby give away his inner lack of resolve, or he would take action with his father that would lead to a final eruption of the swelling wound between the two. And about time. It was ship’s night. Worf alone in the mess hall. No one would be here for hours. That was good, for he was surly. Alexander’s presence had been a constant irritation. Even the crewmen were treating him differently, watching him for reactions, wondering how they should handle the first officer’s son. In some faces he even saw the ugly spectre of ambition. If this tension drove him to distraction, he would be unfit as first officer and someone else would move into his place, answers evaded him. He wished he were back on DS 9. This clumsy new aggression to try defending a whole quadrant was undirected and troublesome. Goals were opaque, successes tempered. The right thing to do remained cloudy and evasive. Like being a parent. What was best? He knew he was a miserable excuse for a father. That was why he had sent Alexander away, and now Alexander despised him for doing what Worf had thought was best. That had been right! Alexander had been better off with the full time attention of two adults, not tagging behind Worf on a ship where children should never have been living. He would do it again. He would happily do it now, send Alexander to another ship to learn what a spacefarer needed to know without thinking all the time that his father was on board. A captain and officers were what young spacefarers needed. Not parents. Rokeg pie, glowing and quickly cooling To let a child upset him to stultification. Was Alexander curtailing Worf’s efficiency? That could never do for long. He knew he was failing as a father, an art at which he was inexperienced and untrained, but there was pitiful little excuse to fail at being an officer, a job for which he was qualified and long tempered. He would never tolerate such troublement in anyone else A dagger lanced through his ruminations and detonated his thoughts. If you had challenged anyone else in this manner you would be dead right now Alexander – if you want me off this ship you’re going to have to kill me Worf – I do not want to hurt you, I want to help you Alexander – by getting rid of me? All you’ve ever done my whole life is send me away! Worf – I am a Klingon warrior. I lead a warrior’s life. That is not the path for you. You told me this yourself. And I have come to accept it. Alexander – You call yourself my father but you haven’t tried to see me or talk to me in five years! The truth of that bolted through Worf’s chest. He had never faced the repercussions of his own silence. Alexander – I wasn’t the kind of son you wanted, so you pretended you had no son. You never accepted me. You abandoned me. Worf digested the boy’s inarguable point of view, if honesty were religion Worf would have to ask forgiveness for his abandonment not of responsibility, but of spirit. The jangle was the ship’s general alarm The rokeg pie erupted from the vibration bled all over its crust Worf hands Alexander his knife back Worf and Alexander were crewmates with a common goal, get to the bridge, take posts, defend the ship, defend the Empire and the Fed, for each was a child of either. Before they reached the bridge, the bird-of-prey took several hard hits, the enemy must’ve sprung upon them from some hiding place or a very good cloaking mechanism, for the shots were direct, not at angles, and bluntly striking the hull. Vibrations of return fire whined through Rotarran’s hull as audible as the alarms, savaging whoever was attacking them When Worf stormed the bridge Martok gave him the seconds needed to understand that there were two ships after them, not just one. Already heavy damage creating halos of smoke around the crew’s heads. Martok clung to his command chair, waving at the smoke. Engineer slumped over his console, face burned, dead. Other bodies strewn on the deck. One officer helps another limp off. A second glance from Martok and a quick point of one finger, Alexander slid into the seat where the engineer had been and did his best with the readouts. Jem’Hadar reading on upper wall screen. Alexander – Shields at sixty percent Martok selected patience, for now – And the Jem’Hadar? Alexander – Which one, sir? Worf – The one shooting at us! At the weapons station, recruit N’Garan visibly trembled with adrenaline, lost target lock, switching to manual. Jem’Hadar moved out of range. Alexander’s panel plumed into a light show, blowing him out of his chair. Blood pulsed from a gash in his cheek. A good scar someday. Worf was looking at his son but did nothing to help him, Martok noticed. Alexander pulled himself back to his station. Pressed his fist to his wound. Shifting to another station Alexander pulled the engineer’s body away Loss of internal communications was Worf’s problem. Worf promptly stepped to the science station Alexander reports loss of internal communications, plasma venting from primary impulse injector on deck five. Martok cranked around – Worf! Get that plasma leak under control before we lose the entire deck! The ship bolted again. That was a belowdecks hit, and that meant casualties. Worf was looking around to see who could go with him, but there were few crewmen still standing N’Garen – Injector breach imminent. Alexander can seal the leak. I’m of no use to you here. There was no bravado in his voice now, a welcome absence. Logically Worf should be the one to go with him, but Martok put out his hard-toed boot and caught Ch’Targh in the thigh. The helmsman looked up, caught his general’s glare, and promptly swung around. It will take at least two people to secure the injector before it explodes Worf glowered at them, Martok saw the struggle of refusal. It did not make sense that both the first officer and the helmsman should leave the bridge when there was a junior officer here Gathering his common sense Worf acceded – Go! Alexander led the way, Ch’Targh followed. Rather poetic, Martok thought Grimly Worf crossed the bridge and took the helm Martok ordered, eager to distract his exec. Engineering reroute all auxiliary power to the disruptors. Pirouetting furiously through space, gravitons shrieking in protest MajKkah! The Rotarran drilled the damaged ship’s nacelle until the overload surged into an explosion Helm! On my command, reduce impulse power to one third and come to course three five five. Weapons, be ready for him to pass in front of us N’Garan fixed her gaze on her board, valiantly ignoring the main screen Rotarran decelerated sickeningly, venting plasma that obscured the attacking ship’s view and ability to judge distance visually. The deceleration jammed to almost a full stop, pressing everyone forward and making Martok feel as if his arms were being ripped off. The Rotarran pitched on a wing, clearing for fire and shot full disruptors point-blank at the Jem’Hadar. A moment later there was only the ball of flame. The Rotarran surged backward on the shock wave Around him, Martok’s surviving crew cheered. Well done! He told them. Yes, it had indeed been well done! A good day. Without even waiting to survey the deep-fried panels of their bridge as was his job, Worf turned away from the main screen – Permission to leave the bridge? Martok – Stand down from alert status. N’Garan, take the helm. She does so with a smile. The damage control team flooded the bridge and Worf departed on the same turbolift 9 Worf ignored several Klingons, injured or dead, lay crumpled on the deck on the deck five corridor, he found himself and a damage-control team stopped short at a locked conduit hatch. Hatch panel Ch’Targh – We sealed the impulse injector. Alexander is trapped in the corridor. After we secured the injector, I sent him in there to put away the tools and somehow he tripped the emergency lockdown. We are trying to override it now. With pointy light stick. An uncharitable round of laughter rumbled through the working Klingons. They had their backs to him, so Worf’s scolding glare had no effect Klingons learned early to field such social irritations as mocking and chiding Worf had missed that, his foster parents had protected him from it, he did not take chiding well. The Rozhenkos would have also protected Alexander, without meaning to debilitate him. Worf had been attuned to his own floundering, without considering that the boy might be floundering too. Could Alexander be not quite as sure of himself and his actions as he tried so hard to appear? Small-boned Klingon teenager Alexander faced him bravely and ignored the chuckles from the other Klingons, so effectively in fact that soon the chuckling died off and the others waited silently to see what Worf would do and whether Alexander would care Together they walked out of the company of others, whose opinions no longer mattered Martok – I come because two of my crew require my help. As far as friends are concerned, what a waste of time. Martok sensed the hard part was over. The two had reached some kind of understanding that they could not change each other and perhaps that wasn’t the key after all. They had stopped trying and now would make headway Since he didn’t stand to greet his superior, Martok took that as a signal that Worf didn’t want the advice of a superior after all, but an elder. Yes, a friend. But more, a family friend. That was well. And about time. Martok sat down and wished for a war nog, or something hot, later. Worf – My son is a man. I have been seeing him as a child. What other mistakes have I made? Martok – You really want to know? Worf – I would like your opinion Martok – I would love to give it. Alexander – I’m considering becoming a member of your house. My father says it’s my choice now. I’d like your opinion. This was the moment Martok had hoped for. He had steered events and manipulated personalities in order to be asked to speak. Therefore he was ready. Martok – Then I will give you my thoughts by speaking some truths and by asking questions of you and requiring honest answers. Fair enough? The surly youth had graduated to a young adult who wanted the air cleared. This was a good thing. Martok hitched to the edge of his chair and positioned himself nearly between them, so neither would imagine he was on the other one’s side. Alexander lived with the Rozhenkos and was content. But he wondered where his father was and why he failed to contact you. Alexander – I wondered very much. I heard stories, but never from him. Martok – So you concluded because he was silent that he did not love you or care for you. Why did you think that? Alexander’s expression turned harder – Because he didn’t send me away until I told him I didn’t want to be a warrior. You were ashamed of me. Worf – I was never ashamed! Alexander preferred to be with his grandparents – My father wouldn’t speak to me once I decided not to be a warrior Martok let Alexander’s revelation ring a little, and more importantly, for Alexander to make contact with his father. Their eyes met. The shields dropped another ten percent. Martok digested the complete shock and corresponding realization in Worf’s face. Martok – Alexander, the word father does not mean all-knowing. Your father struggled long to be a warrior. It came more naturally to him, but it was still a struggle. He struggled so hard that there is little left in him that is not warrior. He is not always a Klingon warrior, sometimes he is a Starfleet warrior, and that is very different but he has the courage to be different. Still, he is all warrior. When you said you had no wish to be a warrior, I think your father had no idea what to say to you. When Worf does not know what to say Alexander – He says nothing? Because you didn’t know what to say to me, you become silent? Worf stared at him but in many ways was staring back at himself – I had no idea how to cope with your choice, the choice, not you Martok – What your father is saying, in his lavalike manner, is that he does not communicate well. Martok leaned back in his chair and forced himself to appear relaxed, signaling that progress was being made. Martok – When one is a child, everything your parents do seems intentional, doesn’t it? Even when they do something hurtful, or clumsy or stupid, you figure there must be a reason. Not just because they fouled up! Of course, you never thought about this. Perhaps your father is just terrible at being a father. Did you ever think about that? No, never. You thought he was being a terrible father on purpose! Because he enjoyed it! Parents can’t be doing something that seems bad simply because they are incompetent, but on purpose! I mean he is clumsy as a fish when it comes to knowing how a father should behave. This has nothing to do with his love for you or his devotion or how he thinks of you, boy. When you told him you didn’t want to be a warrior, he simply had no idea what to talk to you about. Not because of you, but because of himself. With the insight of a young adult instead of a boy Acrimony suddenly, visibly melted and sheeted to the deck Martok shielded his happiness as he turned to Worf – You are guilty of clumsy silence, as are many parents, but you also respond too much as a warrior. Life is not war, my friend, even when there is a war going on. Honor is not just fighting with your hands, but with your heart and your mind. Your son wants to be something other than a warrior, yet he is here. Why do you think he is here? Obviously struggling, Worf showed great promise by leaning forward and rubbing his hands as if to clean them. Alexander is here to do his part, because now there is a war Martok stood up suddenly and clapped his hands to his thighs – Now you will speak as father and son, not as warrior and non-a-warrior. Sink or swim, my friends. I think you will swim. When Martok left, Worf expected to feel empty, desperate, even frightened. But his son’s gaze, like that of an equal, gave him quick respite. Worf at first hated Martok, then greatly respected him for leaving just at this moment. Worf – I have been a poor father. You were right to be angry with me, but you must believe I always loved you. I always wanted security and attention for you. I sent you to my parents because they could give those to you. I never required you to be a warrior. I am not a very demonstrative man. Alexander keenly noted with a rumble in his throat that hinted at impending manhood – You’re demonstrative enough to be getting married. Worf felt his face flush – With women, things are different Alexander – I sure hope so. I don’t know if I will want to stay a warrior after this is all over, if we win, but I want to be a warrior now, so I can say to my own son that I did my part when it was important. Worf gazed with new respect – You communicate very well. You speak freely. I should learn to respect that. Alexander nodded – I am demonstrative Worf – I ask you to help me be a better father. Tell me when I am lacking and I will work on it. There will be times when I respond as a warrior when I should be responding as a father. To you I grant the honor of telling me. Alexander actually smiled – And to you I grant the honor of telling me when I’m a bad warrior. Worf – I have to. I’m also your first officer. Alexander told him boldly – My first officer, my father, and a member of the same house. General Martok thinks I’ve judged you unfairly. I have a wedding gift for you, Father, to show my respect and admit my mistake, I’ll join the House of Martok. Staring until his eyes burned, Worf absorbed the phenomenal depth of this gesture, this commitment. This was Alexander’s idea, his own choice Worf – This will not be easy Alexander – I don’t care about easy. Easy isn’t worth having. Greatly cheered, Worf suddenly straightened – That is a strong sentiment! I can be strong when I have to be, his son said with a lilt that sustained them both Worf – Yes, you can. I can not change the mistakes I have made. I promise you from this day forward I will stand with you Unintimidated Alexander – We’ll see if you mean it. As a bristle of resistance rose in his chest, Worf realized his son was probably joking, but that he also had a point. Worf – What you are about to do entails a grave obligation. Do not accept it lightly. Alexander – I understand, and I accept A wooden case, covered with gold stencils in the ancient Klingon language, unchanged for nearly four thousand years. Martok opened the small box slowly, with ceremonial deliberation. Sigil on top and writing on underside of lid. The ready room lights were severely dimmed, making the candles on the table the primary source of illumination. Reverently Martok removed the gray-and-black crest of the House of Martok, first carved for the family of his grandfather, whose name he bore and had honored with his own service record. A rush of personal pride briefly overwhelmed the general, then he contained himself and concentrated upon the two men for whom the crest now made its 43 rd appearance. He held the crest above a shallow golden bowl which reflected the glow of the candles in its polished surface. Badge of Martok Badge of courage Badge of honor Badge of loyalty The old words, shallow in their sound, they were deep in old meaning. He placed the emblem in the bowl. Together with Worf he chanted – Badge of Martok Worf – Alexander, give him your dagger The boy flinched as if coming out of a trance, then handed Martok his weapon solemnly. Martok took the dagger and sliced his own palm. Closing his fist, he squeezed blood onto the emblem. Forty-three, how full of pride he was! Even though he had no more children coming, his house was growing. One blood, he murmured, one house. Martok hands blade to Alexander, who passes it to Worf, who cut himself in the same manner – One blood, one house. And now Alexander, who was not afraid. In fact, he seemed eager to cut himself and shed his blood onto the shield – One blood, one house! Satisfied, Martok picked up the jeweled decanter beside the ceremonial bowl and poured blood wine all over the insignia, until the blood from their three hands blended to a single shade. This was eminently enjoyable, this ceremony, this wallowing in tradition, despite his preaching to Worf that tradition was only a shading of their identity. Martok did like the ambience and the ties which this harkened from his memory. He thought of his father and his grandfather, and those were good thoughts for an old man to enjoy. He felt young again. Taking small candle wand, he touched the flame to the liquid. The alcohol ignited instantly and flame rolled to the edges of the bowl, reflecting in the eyes of Alexander and Worf as Martok looked at them both. Alexander – I will be faithful even beyond death! The fire burned out, he had gotten the words out in time, luckily, or they would have to begin again Now, Martok barked Alexander’s hand plunged into the bowl and he winced at the hot liquid, but pulled the insignia out and affixed it to his left shoulder. Beaming at the young man as if he were his own son, Martok was pleased that Worf moved to stand beside Alexander as an equal, not before him as an elder The general drew a firm breath and felt young as he made the announcement that tomorrow all would know. The ship would know. The Empire would know. He would tell them all. Welcome to the House of Martok, Alexander, Son of Worf! 53 Sisko summons Martok with a tap on his combadge – Sisko, zero bravo, K one. Martok greets the lift in the officer only area of Starbase – Zero bravo. I am summoned, and I am here. Sisko – What I need from you is the identification numbers off those guard ships at the array. Martok had been silent for the past few seconds. But Sisko constantly felt the canny gaze of the Klingon general, who missed very little on the subtle plane. Unlike most Klingons, Martok was aware of underlying worries, motives, desires, and he had patience to see how those faculties evolved. There were jagged moments, but we may have a warrior someday. He has shed too little blood in his life Those simple sentences Sisko knew, implied much more stress than Martok would ever say. There was some poetry in the phrase ‘too little blood’ commenting about the fact that Alexander had been protected through much of his life from the harshness of life as a Klingon in Klingon society. Worf had embraced Klingon ways too much, then had to pull back and find the place in his mind and soul where he was no particular cultural possession, but an individual. He was still fighting with that, Sisko knew, and also knew that Dax enjoyed teasing him about it with regard to their impending marriage ceremony. Worf wanted all the trappings of Klingon tradition, as if he were desperate to show his willingness to do the surface things if only he could reserve individuality for the times that really counted. P73 Yes, Martok agreed to Sisko’s statement, rather uselessly. Still seeming unconvinced, Martok tilted his massive head. Gained at great cost, Martok has the ID info on the ships at the Argolis array Martok opened a safe near his bunk and pulled out a spy’s gadget, a coded pill about the size of a fingernail infused with information on a chip that could be fed into almost any computer. Martok – the prize of the day. We had to fight them for nearly an hour, then escape with our lives. Two Klingon fighters did not escape at all. For my crew, it was very hard to run away. Sisko – You ran for a good reason, Martok. Keep the bigger picture in mind. Martok – I can, but a Klingon crew is an impatient animal with too much pride. How will Dax kill an array of a hundred sensor dishes with one ship? The general’s own quarters on the Klingon bird of prey he had continued to fly for years despite promotions and senior status. That choice made Sisko admire Martok. Martok’s desk chair. The general was sitting on his bunk, as he knew Sisko would not sit there and he wanted him to sit. To take out all the sensor dishes situated on asteroids and planets all over the Argolis system would take a year of ground assault missions Cranking around to the replicator, Martok keyed up a couple of hot drinks Sisko – extracts a singular destructive assault on the station Martok – Blows it up Martok sipped his drink and slowly nodded, designing the whole scheme in his mind Martok raised his mug – Everyone must die sometime, and the fortunate die in battle. Congratulate your commando for me, Captain. He is on the way to an excellent death P92 5 ships, Rotarran, K’lashm’a, USS Centaur, Traynor, Lyric attack ketracel storage barge. The Gift The Borg modifications are disrupting the warp drive. Seven must help. B’E gets all the Borg garbage out of matter antimatter. This is like pulling weeds, you think you’ve got them all out. B’E – Can you recall how it looked before you turned it into a Borg circus? Witness by Diana Kornfeld SNW V Tom- Sometimes talking to B’E is like dodging bullets while crossing a minefield |
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