Actions

Work Header

The Warriors of Izorr

Summary:

Rip me off again Paramount if you've got the guts. This time I'll have proof!

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: BROTHERHOOD

Chapter Text

 

Kang's Summit. Birthplace of the legendary Klingon for whom it was named decades ago. Dahar master, legendary warrior, slayer of the hated Albino, Kang was a hero whose fame would live forever beside that of Kahless himself. Indeed, he deserved his statue in the Hall of Warriors, one of the greatest heroes in the history of the Klingon people. Martok favored the area for its unmatched sabre bear hunting. He felt almost as one with Kang himself when he visited the summit, with its sheer cliffs and breathtaking view of the valley below. A hero's lair, Martok thought. Here, the sabre bear grew larger and stronger, and he fancied, more ferocious than anywhere else on Qo'noS. Indeed, it took a valorous man to hunt sabre bear on Kang's Summit. Martok and Worf had made the trip once before, but had not been successful. This time, Martok assured Worf, they would take a bear.

He awaited his friend who had elected to scout out the area before sunset. He wondered what it would have been like to hunt sabre bear with Kang himself. No one had ever bested Kang's record bear, though many had died trying. The record had stood for a hundred years. He remembered meeting Kang shortly after he, Koloth and Kor had battled T'nag and his army. The power and charisma Kang had exuded still held him in awe. He had been a young lieutenant then, and when Kang had learned of his humble background, he had laid a hand on his shoulder. "A man of noble character and honorable heart may rise above any obstacle." Martok closed his eye, hearing Kang's voice as if he were here with him now. "Always remember that you are Klingon, and if you remain truly Klingon, then that is enough." Kang's powerful voice and iron grip had made a lasting impression on him. He had never met another like Kang, and doubted that he ever would. He finished making camp and sat before the fire. Shortly before sunset, Worf returned.

"Ah, Worf, did you find bear sign?" Martok asked cheerfully.

"I found signs about two hundred meters above this position." Worf replied.

"A good one?" Martok asked with great interest.

"A very good one." Worf sat down and laid his spears down beside him.

"Then tomorrow, we battle the sabre bear in his own territory." Martok offered Worf blood wine. "Ah, it fills the veins with fire!"

Worf took the bottle and drank deeply before handing it back to Martok. The Chancellor drank deeply himself and belched loudly.

"We should rest well. The tracks were very large." Worf said, throwing another log on the fire.

"Agreed. A man who faces sabre bear with dull wits or lack of sleep is a dead man." Martok drained the bottle and lay down to sleep.

Worf lay down and gazed up at the stars overhead, so far away. Before long, he heard Martok snoring loudly. He contemplated the heavens for a few minutes, then rolled over, and shortly, his snores mingled with those of the Chancellor. Several hours later, Worf awoke to a rough nudge. He opened his eyes to see Martok standing over him, spears in hand. The sun had barely risen, and Martok was ready for the hunt.

"Your years in Starfleet have taught you bad habits, my friend." Martok grinned. "He who hunts sabre bear, hunts at first light." He thrust a spear handle at Worf, who took hold of it, and got to his feet. The two broke camp and started off to hunt. Worf led Martok to the spot where he had found the tracks the evening before. At sight of them, Martok growled with pleasure.

"A very good one indeed, Worf!" Martok placed his foot inside one of the four clawed tracks. His boot barely filled a third of it. "A four man job at least!"

"It should prove a formidable task." Worf said absently as he looked at the size difference.

"Remember Worf, simultaneous attack is the key. The bear is not intelligent, but his strength and ferocity more than makes up for his shortcomings." Martok warned. "Do not let him focus his attention on you for more than a few seconds. If he focuses on you alone, I may be unable to divert his attention." Martok laid his hand on Worf's shoulder. "Once the bear has hold of his enemy, he will not stop until that enemy is in a hundred pieces, and nothing can turn him, not even the threat of death."

"I will remember." Worf assured him.

The two scouted the area, much more cautiously now, wary of an ambush. Martok motioned for Worf to scout the far side of a large rock overhang, and signaled that he would take the other way and meet him on the other side. Worf nodded and slowly crept around the rock. A few minutes later, he emerged around the back side of the rock and saw Martok crouching in the underbrush waiting for him. The Chancellor signaled for Worf to be quiet and join him at his vantage point. Worf crouched low and hurried to Martok's position. As he squatted down behind the cover of the bushes, Martok quietly spread the underbrush apart with his spear to reveal an adult sabre bear in a clearing below.

"He is feeding on a targ carcass." Martok said.

Worf looked at the bear as it ripped at a hind quarter, its silver and black fur glistening in the early morning sun. The animal was enormous, easily weighing nearly a thousand kilos he estimated. A gigantic cousin to the Klingon mastiff, the sabre bear was not really a bear, but then, neither was the mastiff really a dog. Like bears and dogs on earth, however, the two shared a common ancestor. The sabre bear and the mastiff even shared the same jaw structure, designed to tear great chunks of meat rather than chew it. Only his size and general appearance would suggest a true bear.

"I have hunted this summit for forty years, but I have never seen one quite this color." Martok said. "Its hide will be a rare prize." He withdrew his spear from the bushes, which closed back to their normal form. "You set up on that side." He indicated the way Worf had come. "And I will take the other. Wait for my signal."

Worf nodded and the two men parted and began to make their separate ways to their attack positions. For several minutes, Worf made his way carefully and quietly to the spot he had chosen, periodically venturing a look at the bear's position, making sure not to be surprised by the massive beast. The sabre bear was fully absorbed in devouring his kill, and was paying no attention to his surroundings. Worf stopped and finally located Martok, who was slowly making his way down as well. Having done that, Worf resumed his descent to the clearing. When he reached a suitable position, he lay down on his stomach and low-crawled through the underbrush until he could see the bear through the bushes.

Shortly thereafter, he saw that Martok had taken up a position as well. The Chancellor acknowledged that he saw Worf and signaled to wait. A breeze had come up and was blowing from behind Worf. As he watched the great bear in the clearing, the animal raised up from his meal and began to sniff the air, turning on his hind legs in several directions, trying to locate the source of the new scent on the breeze. Worf knew that the beast must have smelled him. He remained still and gripped the handle of his spear tightly in case the bear should charge. After what seemed like hours, the bear returned to devouring the targ. The slight breeze had changed direction, and the bear lost the scent he had picked up. After letting the bear turn his full attention to the carcass, Martok crept slowly from concealment. Worf did the same, and both men stood silently just inside the clearing, spears ready.

Martok nodded and both men roared at the sabre bear together. The bear started, looking first at one, then the other, and roared in rage at the intruders. The men continued to provoke the bear as they crept closer from both directions. The sabre bear stood up to his full height and towered over the two men, easily standing four meters tall. Back and forth the bear challenged first one, then the other, all the time becoming more enraged. Finally, the creature charged straight at Martok, who feinted one way and dove from the monster's path at the last moment. With amazing quickness, Worf thought, Martok recovered and buried his spear in the bear's flank. Instantly, the sabre bear turned and snapped the shaft of the spear as though it had been made of chalk. As the bear turned, Worf had covered the distance across the clearing and thrust his spear into the bear's side before it could reach Martok. The sabre bear wheeled on Worf, catching him with a backhand slap, and sent him sprawling several meters away. Martok roared to draw the bear's attention away from Worf. The bear turned and advanced on the Chancellor, who jabbed at the great beast with the razor sharp head of another spear.

"Worf, are you alive?" Martok bellowed.

"I'm alive." Worf answered groggily. He got to his feet and tried to clear the cobwebs from his brain as Martok held the bear's attention. Worf found another spear and roared at the bear, striking it in the back with a large stone. The beast turned on him and charged, with Martok close behind, ready for another thrust. As the bear lunged at him, Worf dodged as he had seen Martok do, and barely missed losing his head as a massive, wickedly armed paw slashed through the air close enough for him to feel the fur brush his scalp as it passed. Worf spun, and buried his spear in the bear's flank as Martok struck for the back. Bellowing in rage and pain, the sabre bear whirled and swung its massive paw, catching Martok in the shoulder and sending him flying this time.

Worf wrenched his spear free, but before he could thrust again, the bear swung again, knocking his legs from under him. He instinctively pointed the spear at the bear, slashing the animal's tender nose tissue. Unexpectedly, the animal roared again in pain and quickly backed away from where Worf lay, favoring his injured face. The bear wrenched the spear free from his back and paced warily at a safe distance from the thing that had injured him. Up until this point, the sabre bear had shown no signs of being injured. Now, he behaved like a scolded whelp that had just been whipped. The great beast growled low and tore at the broken spear in his flank.

"It seems that sabre bears have soft faces Worf." Martok yelled from where he had been knocked by the beast. He rested with his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

The bear roared at Martok but stayed where he was, finally freeing the other spear head with a scream of pain. He continued his low growling and paced for some minutes before backing into the brush, keeping his eye first on Martok, then Worf. Slowly, he disappeared into the thicket. The men could hear him growling and trampling vegetation for some time. Both were too spent to follow the great beast. Martok made his way slowly to where Worf still lay.

"Are you injured, or has Starfleet made you soft?" he asked as he approached.

"My right leg is broken." Worf said simply.

"Are you sure?" Martok asked, giving Worf's leg a nudge with his boot. Worf's grimace told him that the injury was indeed genuine. "And all the time I thought that you had run out of wind." Martok laughed. He helped Worf to his feet. "Come brother, back to the encampment. We can set your leg there."

Back at the encampment, Martok helped Worf set his broken leg and laughed heartily at Worf's howl when he did so. Blood wine numned the pain and Martok began to minister to the deep gashes in his right shoulder.

"We are indeed fortunate Worf." The Chancellor said as he bandaged himself. "He was a rare prize."

"A prize that we failed to capture." Worf grumbled.

"Worf, do you feel no honor, no satisfaction at a battle so closely contested?"

"The battle was indeed exhilarating." Worf admitted. "The beast was a formidable adversary."

"Formidable indeed. I doubt that an entire hunting party could bring that bear down with less difficulty than we had." Martok took the bottle from Worf. "A rare prize indeed." He finished the bandaging and drank deeply before handing the bottle back.

"That prize was wounded. Should we not go after him and end his suffering?"

"You're thinking like a human again, Worf." Martok said. "Sabre bear are hard to kill because of their tenacity, more than anything else. Our little spear pricks did little more than anger him." He patted Worf on the shoulder. "He will be completely healed in a week. Think no more of him."

Worf looked up at the sun. It was barely midday. He drank again and sat the bottle on the ground. Martok began rifling through his pack. He took a small box from it and sat down beside Worf.

"Attack or defend?" he spread the game out between them.

"Attack." Worf answered.

"Ah, looking to lessen your debt to me." Martok said. He placed the red attack piece on the side of the makeshift board nearest to Worf. "And the champion defends." He smiled as he placed the black defender's piece on his own side. He then took three blue octagonal dice from the box, each small flat surface bearing a different Klingon symbol painted in white. "Defender rolls first."

Two weeks later, Worf was standing on the bridge of the Galaxy class U.S.S. Roswell, heading through Federation territory, bound for Klingon space. What he had heard on Earth had worried him. He had been informed that there had been several attacks on Federation installations by Klingon ships over the past three weeks. Since the events took place during his time off, he had been unaware of the situation until he had returned to Earth. Now, he was heading back to Qo'noS in an attempt to find the answers to some very important questions. He was also disturbed by the fact that he had been unable to reach Chancellor Martok. When he had left Qo'noS, Martok had returned to the council chambers and began catching up on the business of the empire. There had been nothing said about any attacks of any kind. At the back of his mind, Worf regretted his decision to resume his position as ambassador to Qo'noS after having given up the position nearly two years before. But Chancellor Martok would not take no for an answer. For friendship and his concern for the good of the Klingon Empire, he had agreed.

"Captain, will you please inform me when we contact my escort?"

"Certainly Ambassador." The captain, a native of Tiburon, acknowledged.

Worf left the bridge and headed for his quarters. A few hours later, the captain notified him that the escort had come within range.

"Thank you captain, how long until we rendezvous with the escort?"

"One hour, fourteen minutes, present speed."

"Understood." Worf rose from his bed and dressed himself. An hour later he stepped from
the turbolift onto the bridge of the Roswell.

"Ambassador, we have been contacted by the Klingon escort." The captain reported.

"Hail them."

The captain gave the order, and the communications officer complied.

"Ready, sir."

"On screen." The captain said.

The commander of the escort appeared on the screen.

"Greetings, ambassador." The man said. "I am captain Kovath. I am here under orders of Chancellor Martok to escort you to the homeworld."

"Thank you captain." Worf said. "Prepare to receive me."

Worf made his good-byes and transported over to the lead Klingon ship. The Roswell departed, leaving the escort at the Klingon/Federation border. The Klingon escort, three Vor'cha class attack cruisers turned back and headed for the Klingon homeworld. Worf spoke to the captain for a time then retired to his quarters. He went over the events of the last month in his mind as he lay on his bed in his cabin. Try as he might, he could not come up with anything he had seen or heard which might give a clue as to what was happening. He decided to get some sleep and concentrate on the subject later.

Shortly before 0200 hours, Worf was awakened by Kovath's voice.

"Ambassador Worf, respond."

"Worf here captain." Worf answered.

"Ambassador, we are being hailed by an unknown vessel with a request to speak to you."

"Is it a Starfleet vessel?"

"Negative sir, it appears to be Klingon."

"I'm on my way." Worf switched off the intercom and headed for the bridge. When he entered, he moved to the captain's side. "Hail them."

Kovath gave the order and the other commander's face appeared on the viewscreen.

"Greetings ambassador." The commander said cordially. "You and your vessel are now in the possession of the House of Duras. Sowee TAH!" At his command, an attack cruiser decloaked.

"The House of Duras is dead." Kovath said. "Who are you?"

"I am K'tag, and as I said, you are prisoners of the House of Duras."

"As the captain said, the House of Duras is dead." Worf growled. "You are responsible for the attacks in Federation space?"

"We are." K'tag smiled, exposing his teeth which had been filed to points.

Kovath stood up and addressed K'tag. "You are not of the House of Duras, flesh eater!" he took a step forward. "You are of the G'tos'uk, cannibal!" Kovath spat at the screen.

"Indeed I am of the G'tos'uk." K'tag smiled again. "We are allied with the House of Duras." His smile disappeared. "Now give me the ambassador, or we shall take him." K'tag issued a command and nine more Klingon ships decloaked, two attack cruisers, two battle cruisers, and five K'vort class birds of prey. The escort was surrounded. "As you can see captain, it will do no good to try and fight your way out of the situation. I will have the ambassador one way or another." K'tag smiled again.

"All ten ships have us targeted captain." The tactical officer reported.

"Captain." Worf began to speak, but began to dematerialize. Realizing that he was being transported off his escort, he gave a single command. "Destroy them!" and then he was gone.

Instantly, all ten ships began firing on the escort. The escort, in retaliation, concentrated fire on K'tag's ship, crippling it swiftly, but were disabled just as quickly. Kovath's ship was blasted into atoms and disintegrated. The other two were blown to pieces and left floating in space. K'tag and his bridge crew were killed, but his mission was successful. Worf was transported to the lead bird of prey, which headed away from the scene under cloak and at high warp. The others did the same, except K'tag's ship, which had lost its cloaking capability. Under command of K'tag's successor, the crippled attack cruiser limped away at full impulse, leaving only the floating remnants of two attack cruisers as testimony of what had happened. Worf was stunned as soon as he rematerialized on the bird of prey and dragged roughly to the hold and thrown in, unconscious.