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Kr'Togr: Ballad of the Half Human Hero

Posted on Tue 8th Aug, 2023 @ 10:41pm by Commodore H'tek
Edited on on Wed 23rd Aug, 2023 @ 3:35am

1,785 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: O' the Cardiff Rose
Location: The Triangle, Outpost "Chokola"
Timeline: MD1


{Deep Space Outpost HQ:-Second Sons Mothership "Chokola"}

A massive heartwood table, scored and marked over the long years imposed austerity into the once cheerful room. Once used by pirate captains across two quadrants the ironwood saw only three of the original Klingons among the pantheon who had come here decades past. Those who had felled the mighty tree and shaped its heart wood, absent, or lost to time. Once these halls had been filled with their peers, united under a banner, well fed savages marching to a drum that H'tek gladly beat.

Their conference here, back in this once seat of power had yielded grim results indeed. Only three captains could make it, five in all remained. Partha, H’tek, Ckall, had responded in summons to this place, with code phrasing a decade old. Partha would ordinarily have been upset over the breach of data security but it was truly obscure and all the relevant legal parties had moved on to other affairs. If a clerk analyzing lines of dialogue saw it, there would be no connections deduced. The Seond Sons hadn't been relevant since the Dominion War whose fire which swept the whole quadrant.

H’tek had kept the accounts solvent, and Ckall had kept their horde safe. Depleted as it was, their infrastructure remained. Ships were what they needed, and ones to combat the rigors of pre 25th century demands. What was left, were pathetic centuries old raiders. New blood would come at great cost and far too much to buy, it had be earned.

Partha, who had retired, had their hopes in suspension as his son commanded the remnant fleet. It was quite dismal, myriad shuttles, small craft tucked in hidden bases, ten ancient Raptors, and a few captured craft of various empires used to smuggle past borders. Somehow still the wily son of Partha proved his lineage was true by performing miraculous feats. The men here commanded their own private vessels, a B’rel scout, and of course H’teks K’vort class Heavy Cruiser. Ckall was married to the scout, an invisible ship she kept immaculate and invisible. Partha had given his trio of Raptors over to his son Kr’togr before retiring to Boreth.

Ckall recounted how other captains in their outfit had taken what they could and run for the frontiers, or shut their operations down. Scores of vessels, most of their fighting force, could potentially be recalled, or extorted. Ckall had kept their headquarters and access to the vaults a secret and hidden from assassins and interrogators sent by those P’taq trying to get their investments back. If they wanted their share of the bounties, then theyd need to come get it from H'teks hand.

Ckal felt her faith in their return and loyalty to the team had paid off, as the brothers H'tek and Partha had formed a once great outfit. There was now hope for a return to form, despite the age of the outfit. The K’vort could actually fight in engagements with other cruisers, and it meant they had returned to a fraction of their previous might.

H’tek had enough of hearing everything else but the obvious first step, recruitment. “We must send for him, there are no others we can rely on so heavily.”

Partha nodded but continued their conversation, a maddening account of all that had been lost or taken. "I'd prefer we focus on elements within our control, recalling what is ours can put us into better standing without risking the boys impetuousness."

“He is your son, demand his obedience!” H’tek raged as he had nearly lost his whole fortune to maintain the vaults. What remained, he retained ownership over. All of his captains knew they could cash out, but had to go through him. H'tek held the passwords, and the larger secrets within their hierarchy. His return meant the vault could be opened, and they had a real ship that could do some serious raiding again.

Partha gave the expected reply, “My son does not do as I command if it is for me. We haven’t spoken in many months, but I was not hiding on Boreth. Kr’togr chooses his own path. His contributions under our banner have surpassed any other, if we ask, we will have to name him our equal to gain his talents.”

H'tek handwaved the obvious fatherly rivalryl, “He has kept the Device active all this time, carried our banner in dark parts of the galaxy we have never seen in our lives. Let it be done man, the boy is grown. We need him and we will embrace this by naming him our equal.”

Partha looked to H’tek with a fair amount of dismay. The rivalry of father and son can crop up in even normal healthy relationships, however Partha still felt the urge to prove his worth and triumph over his son in any way. It was an old emotional hang up that he had never cared to resolve. Their lives had taken a wide path in same directions, but neither of them had animosity beyond the one any son carries from a father who was teacher, priest, and Barbarian in equal parts.

So with deliberate speed, Partha slowly punched in the code to open the comm channel to the special counterpart held by Kr’togr. He sent the code for recall, unused in nearly ten years.

“First Loser”

The Device was a palm sized oblate disc, and used colors blinking in sequence as its medium for signal status. Strobing purple from the uniform metal-gray surface indicated the other end was waiting to be opened. It was not a technology he knew how to operate, but that it worked over incredible distance and it couldn’t be decrypted by all but planetary computers forcing in. This technology they had found was their bleeding edge, and it was still there, waiting for them. Relighting this base had shown the old men, all they needed was right here, just as it had been left. Ckall had protected the defunct depots, bastions, and most importantly, their vaults, safe from the outside.

Now, with very few ships, and more than a few dollars just not enough to restore a fraction of what was once their playground, the die was cast for their return to form. They needed a captain to lead the raids, show how the Second Sons operated, and who better than the son of a founding member? One whose loyalty had been tested and integrity demonstrated time and again, who better?

A counter command pinged the device, requesting authentication in counter sign. It was too fast to indicate anything else, Kr'togr carried it in his pocket.

Partha had no idea what to say to this man whose only connections were blood and the memory of a stinging lash during lessons at home. Pressing his thumb, a DNA scan confirmed Partha’s identity and relayed for reply.

While they waited. Partha lamented, “He has done well, I can’t find an argument my head cant tear down, and the heart does not disagree.”

The weathered face of his father greeted the young man, who showed immediate surprise at the extent of Parthas aging over the last year. Boreth had made him somehow more storybook Klingon. The beard alone was as large as Kr’togr’s Torso. Partha saw the resentment towards the aged version of his own visage serving to remind Kr’togr his life was not going to go on as it was. Change, time, victory and loss weathered the face but enriched the soul. He was envious of Partha, but terrified of the prospect of becoming like him.

With arrogance he broke six months of silence, “I am up to my eyes in Zakdorn, father, this isn’t the time.”

Partha scoffed, incredulous that the boy could be so daft. “You are in combat, answering your comm?”

Kr'togr scoffed, "It was this comm, so I answered it thinking it was urgent, so tell me what you want?!"

"I want to know if you've gotten into trouble!" Partha slapped the table, but it lost all effect over the transmission.

The young half Klingon with soft eyes and a partial ridgelined brow stared in insolent defiance. “The targ is stuck all is well."

"It sounds like you are in a warzone."

"Uh, we seek a greater prize than weapons stocks and medical supplies.”

“As in?”

Kr’togr clearly bridled at the tone, a condescending father speaking to a boastful son. He snapped back, “A greater prize than what the markets will give me.”

“Have we not spoken of your ambition, have you not been careless and seen it bring you ruinous results?”

In a universal representation of child like frustration Kr’togr rolled his eyes. “What do you need, my blood still boils, and I need to see this done.”

“It’s just good to see you are taking on worthwhile raids, I must speak with you when you are not in peril.”

The comment wasn’t unnoticed, it stoked the young man further into rage. “I will reach out once I am done here. I must go.”

Relentless in his disapproval Partha gritted a polite, “Of course, I look forward to the accounting of our losses. Q’apla my son.”

Kr’togr let the comment rest in an awkward silence and cut the channel.

A beat passed as they all absorbed the moment, Ckall chuckled, “He is not one of us, he is one of him.”

Partha took it in stride, drinking from his wrought iron flagon a nutritious broth, finally replying, “He is one of a kind.”

H'tek lifted his own mug of Deltan Gin with a toothy grin, "He's exactly what we want him to be."



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