Captain's Log; Stardate: 90862.6
We were traveling our usual patrol route though the Eta Eradani Sector Block when we received a request to proceed to the Ker'rat System to help redirect some Borg supplies towards Federation space, and Task Force Argo specifically. This is a fairly common request, and I was not surprised to receive the orders.
What did surprise me was the apparent lack of Klingon activity today. This is an area of space the Borg maintain, and heavily guard, however it's also become a great place to procure Borg tech, and the Federation isn't the only group that needs supplies. The Klingons, frequently, make their own raids into Ker'rat looking for... whatever they can grab.
Today, however, was different. Warping in our scans showed no Klingon ships, just Borg and one or two other Federation ships. The other captain's and I quickly formulated a plan of attack and began our assault. It was on the Guardian's second loop through when the Raptor found us.
The ship decloaked directly behind us, while we were engaged with a Borg Sphere. Attempting to catch us off guard, I assume, they hit us hard, and fast. Mr. Chem, however, my chief engineer, quickly rerouted power to the aft shields and kept the raptor from punching through. We turned our attention from the Sphere, which was trying to regenerate, and quickly turned towards the Raptor.
Our first barrage tore through their foreword shields and seared their hull. The ship quickly turned and bolted, and we opted to let them go. We turned our attention back to our task at hand, but our Klingon friend wasn't willing to let us go just yet. We had finished the Sphere and had moved on to a trio of smaller Borg ships when the Raptor hit us again. They used the same tactic as before, decloaking directly astern and hitting us with all foreword cannons, but we were ready.
We turned, launched a barrage of torpedoes at all engaged ships, destroying two of the Borg ships, and turned our own cannons on the Raptor. I must say I received a small amount of satisfaction when the fireball lit up the viewscreen. With the Klingons defeated we were able to finish our task without any further incident, and continue our patrol. Starbase Argo should be receiving those supplies within a matter of hours.
I'm still convinced we can find a peaceful solution to this war, but I take the defense of my ship, and the Federation, very seriously. I'm sorry our engagement resulted in a loss of Klingon life, but it's not like they gave us any choice. They came out of cloak with all weapons firing, and we had already engaged the Borg. It was obvious from the beginning they were not going to talk... we answered them the only way they would permit us to, and I feel my actions were justified.
Captain's Personal Log; Stardate 91659.6
I've never really enjoyed being the captain of a carrier-class vessel. The idea of sending young people into harms way in a lightly-armed, lightly-shielded shuttle does not sit well with me. I do what I can to protect them... ordering them to stay close, keeping a transporter lock on them at all times, and putting them through training that makes them better and more aware, but it just isn't always enough. Today was one of those days.
Today I lost a friend.
We were returning to Deep Space 13 from Kerrat, where we delivered a sound defeat to Klingon forces in the area. Most of my crew were celebrating in our lounge when we received a distress call from a group of nearby Federation ships. The Borg had brought a large force into the Neutral Zone, we could only assume the worst. We altered course and engaged. Knowing the strength of the Borg I did not, immediately, launch the fighter wing. However, at the urging of my Flight Deck Officer, I let them fly. They were ordered to stay close and intercept any large projectiles headed towards the Ark Raleigh.
We were winning. The other Federation ships and we were pushing them back. Eventually the Borg ships withdrew and we felt we'd won the day, but then one of their command ships warped in. We were caught in a tractor beam almost immediately. The beam drained our shields and power systems, then the command ship fired one of it's massive torpedoes targeting us!
I was prepared for the worst, these torpedoes have been known to vaporize entire ships, but that was not to be our fate. Not today. Lieutenant Commander Bizc, a close friend and my Flight Deck Officer, placed her ship between the Ark Raleigh and the torpedo. With all weapons firing she rammed her ship into the torpedo. In a flash both the torpedo and her peregrine fighter were gone. There was no trace, nothing for us to salvage.
We tried rerouting power to the transporters, but there was just no power to reroute. The Borg tractor beam was draining everything. We tried calling for one of the other ships to beam her out, but they were too far out... or too engrossed in their own issues. There was just nothing... but she did not die in vain. Her actions saved not only the Ark Raleigh, but the fleet. When the torpedo enveloped her ship the energy spike forced the tractor beam to release us. We were then able to rally the rest of the fleet and destroy the Borg command vessel.
We won the day, and all it costs was the life of my friend. I will see to it she gets a commendation.
Yes, indeed... there are times I really hate being the captain of a carrier-class vessel.
End Log.
I've never really enjoyed being the captain of a carrier-class vessel. The idea of sending young people into harms way in a lightly-armed, lightly-shielded shuttle does not sit well with me. I do what I can to protect them... ordering them to stay close, keeping a transporter lock on them at all times, and putting them through training that makes them better and more aware, but it just isn't always enough. Today was one of those days.
Today I lost a friend.
We were returning to Deep Space 13 from Kerrat, where we delivered a sound defeat to Klingon forces in the area. Most of my crew were celebrating in our lounge when we received a distress call from a group of nearby Federation ships. The Borg had brought a large force into the Neutral Zone, we could only assume the worst. We altered course and engaged. Knowing the strength of the Borg I did not, immediately, launch the fighter wing. However, at the urging of my Flight Deck Officer, I let them fly. They were ordered to stay close and intercept any large projectiles headed towards the Ark Raleigh.
We were winning. The other Federation ships and we were pushing them back. Eventually the Borg ships withdrew and we felt we'd won the day, but then one of their command ships warped in. We were caught in a tractor beam almost immediately. The beam drained our shields and power systems, then the command ship fired one of it's massive torpedoes targeting us!
I was prepared for the worst, these torpedoes have been known to vaporize entire ships, but that was not to be our fate. Not today. Lieutenant Commander Bizc, a close friend and my Flight Deck Officer, placed her ship between the Ark Raleigh and the torpedo. With all weapons firing she rammed her ship into the torpedo. In a flash both the torpedo and her peregrine fighter were gone. There was no trace, nothing for us to salvage.
We tried rerouting power to the transporters, but there was just no power to reroute. The Borg tractor beam was draining everything. We tried calling for one of the other ships to beam her out, but they were too far out... or too engrossed in their own issues. There was just nothing... but she did not die in vain. Her actions saved not only the Ark Raleigh, but the fleet. When the torpedo enveloped her ship the energy spike forced the tractor beam to release us. We were then able to rally the rest of the fleet and destroy the Borg command vessel.
We won the day, and all it costs was the life of my friend. I will see to it she gets a commendation.
Yes, indeed... there are times I really hate being the captain of a carrier-class vessel.
End Log.
Stardate: 90322.3
K’tiess, Captain of the USS Ark Raleigh and member of the Starfleet Diplomatic Corps, sat at his desk. His fingers were clutched together just below his chin and he leaned forward on his desk to continue reading. His brow was furrowed slightly as his computer chimed, letting him know that yet another report had been downloaded. It’d been a week, nearly, since the attack, and still ships… and people… were still being found.
Almost a week ago the unthinkable happened. An Undine strike force, from the Delta Quadrant, used an Iconian Gateway to enter Earth orbit. That fleet nearly destroyed Space Dock, a structure that has stood for over 200 years, and survived the Breen attack during the Dominion Wars. Not to mention the dozens of ships that were destroyed or disabled trying to defend the station. K’tiess lost a lot of friends that day.
He knew the risks of being in Starfleet, they all did. It was comforting, at least a little, to think of his friends in that way. To think of them as having choose their fate… their path, but really it didn’t make missing them any easier. It didn’t help their families or loved ones whom never got to say goodbye, or who could never really understand why they died, or why they had to be… wherever they were when the Undine decided to attack.
Yes, part of him wanted to go find the nearest way to get into Fluidic Space and return the favor. To destroy an Undine city… to make them lose friends, but that wouldn’t really make him feel any better, and K’tiess knew it. To make matters worse, however, he wasn’t even allowed to return to Earth or Argo. His orders were to stay near the Klingon border to assist with Diplomatic efforts following the attacks.
Okay, yes, the Undine attack against Earth was a ruse… a bluff to prevent Starfleet from assisting the Undine true targets, the Klingons. Yes, the Klingons had lost more ships and personnel then Starfleet had, and it’s true that these attacks did end the war between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. All that’s true, but damnit, he should be back at Earth or Argo assisting his friends, and getting ready for whatever the Undine, or the Iconians, should throw at them next.
He… his door chimed and his eyes shifted to it in anger. As if to say, ‘how dare you interrupt my thoughts?’ After a moment, however, K’tiess sighed and all he said was, “Enter!”
The door opened abruptly and Commander Drectit, K’tiess’ Ferengi First Officer, walked in. He paused when he noticed how his captain was seated. K’tiess just looked towards his first officer without moving his head or hands then muttered, “Have you seen this?”
“Sir?” asked Drectit in confusion.
K’tiess sat back in his chair and roughly motioned towards the computer before placing his hands in his lap. “The Cherokee, the Alonnah, the Bloom, all lost. The Cherokee had time for some to get to the escape pods, but the other two…” K’tiess got quiet as his anger began to get the better of him. For a moment he let the anger swell, but then pushed it away. Anger wouldn’t help his friends.
After allowing his captain to calm Drectit steped up to the desk, letting the door close behind him, and noded to K’tiess. “Yes, sir. I see the same reports you do, and I’ve lost friends just like you have.”
K’tiess looked up at his First Officer with chagrin and nodded, “Yes, of course you have. I’m sorry, old friend, I didn’t mean any offense.”
Drectit started shaking his head before K’tiess even finished his sentence. “It’s fine, Captain,” he said, “I just felt you needed a reminder.” He then sat on the edge of the desk and turned the computer so he could read a bit of the report. “Did you know those ships, or the crews?”
K’tiess nodded. “Yes, I did,” he replied. “Captain Trellel of the Cherokee was at the academy with me, and so was Captain Drune of the Alonnah. We used to play poker together… on Friday nights… when we should have been studying. Captain Sullivan of the Bloom… she… she and I were… close… for a time.”
Drectit just nodded, then asked, “Did any of them make it, sir?”
“Yes, Captain Trellel. He’s going to lose an arm, a lung, and possibly part of his heart from a plasma burn, but the doctors are confident he’ll survive,” K’tiess replied. “The other two, however..,” he finished by just shaking his head. “Damnit, Drectit, first the Borg attack Vega, then the Undine start… or did the Undine come first?” he shook his head. “Who haven’t we been in conflict with over the last year?” K’tiess waved away his last question without waiting for Drectit to reply. He then let out a long sigh before he said, “Starfleet has held its own, but there are times I wonder how…” he let his voice trial off. “You didn’t come in here just to listen to me vent, did you?” he asked after a pause.
“No, sir, I didn’t,” replied Drectit. “You have a communique from…” Drectit paused. “Well, sir, it’s from a Klingon. Drok’ma, Son of Hundek, of the house of Dorok. They were rather specific about using the full name, sir.” K’tiess just nodded for his first officer to continue. Drectit smirked as he looked down at his captain, “He also instructed me to refer to you as ‘qagh Sopbe’ which didn’t sound very nice to me, sir.”
K’tiess paused for a moment, almost as if angry, then a smile crept across his face and he chuckled before replying, “It’s not, Drectit, but it’s also a reference to our childhood. He’s picking on me.”
Drectit nodded slowly, obviously confused by this revelation. “I’ve been your first officer for a few years now, and I’ve never heard you talk of any Klingon family. I thought you spent your childhood in the Federation, how did you get to know a Klingon well enough for him to… pick on you?” inquired Drectit.
“That’s a good question, and a story for another time. I’ll take the call in here, please put him through.”
Drectit, realize he’s been dismissed gets up to leave. He pauses at the door, however, when K’tiess says, “Oh, and if he complains about how long he’s been waiting… tell him ‘'oH SoH qotlh’, please.” Drectit nodded once, in obvious confusion, before he stepped out of the room. The door closed behind him, and a moment later K’tiess’ computer chimed.
He reached over and pressed the button to answer the call. After a momentary pause the screen lit up revealing a Klingon warrior with dark tan skin, a rounded face with green eyes and high cheekbones. The Klingon had a scar running from his hair-line, down the left side of his face, but missing the eye entirely. What hair was pulled back in top knot that revealed the prominent forehead and sharply defined ridges. He turned those eyes upon K’tiess and smiled. “Brother!” he greeted loudly, before saying, “You managed to survive the war. Apparently you’ve not forgotten all that I taught you!”
K’tiess laughed in response then nodded and said, “I’ve never forgotten anything you taught me, Brother. You’re lessons were well taught, and impossible to forget.”
“Ah, and you learned them well. We never had to teach you anything more than once, and you were never one to fall for the same prank more than once either. Something you taught our fathers on more than one occasion, as I recall.” The Klingon paused, “So… I deserve it, do I?”
After a short chuckle K’tiess blatantly ignored the question. Instead he asked, “How is Hundek?”
“He’s dead. He died at the Battle of Defera when the Breen first attacked.” He paused before he continued, “You would have been proud, Brother. I was there! Our father stood with his back to a wall, his Bat’leth held in his right hand because his left was broken. A dozen soldiers were firing at him, and a dozen more lie dead, scattered around the room. Even as their energy weapons burned his skin… he charged. Not one Breen was left standing by the time our father finished, and then he simply lay down and went to Sto’vo’kor. It was a glorious death, and one for which more than one song has been written.”
K’tiess nodded, “He would be pleased with such a death, though if there aren’t at least a dozen songs for his final stand I think he’d be disappointed.”
A loud belly laugh escaped the Klingon, “Of course! We shall have to write one ourselves, Brother!”
K’tiess lowered his gaze slightly and said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Drok’ma…”
With a suddenly stern gaze and gruff tone Drok’ma interrupted, “You honor him with your words, don’t dishonor his memory with your regrets. He loved you like a son, and he was always proud of you. You are a warrior, K’tiess, of the house of Dorok. When the war started Father knew you’d fight. He knew you’d do your duty, and he was all the more proud of you for it.” The Klingon paused, “Would you believe he even wanted to find you? He wanted to meet you in battle, to see what you’ve learned, to see how you fought when faced with a real battle! He… He was just as glad he never did, though. He’d have hated to die by your hand.”
“I will still miss him, Brother”
“As well you should.”
“I’m not sure I’d have won that fight.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. It didn’t matter to him, Brother. He followed your career with great interest. We all have. A warrior and a diplomat? A man of peace and of war? You carry the heritage of two peoples, K’tiess, and you wield it as a warrior does a sword. The Borok family salutes you, Brother!”
K’tiess nodded and took a deep breath, “You honor me, Brother. To what do I owe the honor of you contacting me now?”
A curt nod and Drok’ma said, “You might have heard that the war is ended! It’s time for us warriors to put down our weapons, tend to our dead and wounded, then celebrate the fights and the lost friends, as all Klingons do!” There he paused and grew somewhat somber, “and Mother would never forgive you if you didn’t stop by and share a meal with her. She’s even been storing fresh gagh to prepare for you. She says Starfleet never did feed you right.”
K’tiess laughed hard and nodded, “Of course,” he said, “I’d love to see her. It happens that I’ve been assigned to the Klingon border anyway, to assist with “Diplomatic Efforts” or so they say. Personally, I think they just want me to keep an eye on your people. Or, perhaps, help should the Undine attack Qo’nos again.”
“Fah, let them come!” said Drok’ma with heat in his voice. “If the qa’meH quv want to attack Qo’nos again I say let them come! We are ready for them, this time, and will happily send them to Grethor.”
“I believe you would, at that. Is the House of Dorok defending Qo’nos?”
Drok’ma nodded and said, “Yes, we are. It is a great honor for the council to grand us that duty. There are others, also, but Dorok shall take the lead.”
“Well, the council could do worse!”
Again Drok’ma nodded, and lowered his voice as he said, “So what shall I tell mother?”
With a smirk K’tiess replied, “Tell her I’ll be there in two days, and to keep the Gagh fresh.”
“I’ll tell her. Qapla’, Brother!”
“Qapla!” and the computer went dark.
(Edited for spelling and spacing)
K’tiess, Captain of the USS Ark Raleigh and member of the Starfleet Diplomatic Corps, sat at his desk. His fingers were clutched together just below his chin and he leaned forward on his desk to continue reading. His brow was furrowed slightly as his computer chimed, letting him know that yet another report had been downloaded. It’d been a week, nearly, since the attack, and still ships… and people… were still being found.
Almost a week ago the unthinkable happened. An Undine strike force, from the Delta Quadrant, used an Iconian Gateway to enter Earth orbit. That fleet nearly destroyed Space Dock, a structure that has stood for over 200 years, and survived the Breen attack during the Dominion Wars. Not to mention the dozens of ships that were destroyed or disabled trying to defend the station. K’tiess lost a lot of friends that day.
He knew the risks of being in Starfleet, they all did. It was comforting, at least a little, to think of his friends in that way. To think of them as having choose their fate… their path, but really it didn’t make missing them any easier. It didn’t help their families or loved ones whom never got to say goodbye, or who could never really understand why they died, or why they had to be… wherever they were when the Undine decided to attack.
Yes, part of him wanted to go find the nearest way to get into Fluidic Space and return the favor. To destroy an Undine city… to make them lose friends, but that wouldn’t really make him feel any better, and K’tiess knew it. To make matters worse, however, he wasn’t even allowed to return to Earth or Argo. His orders were to stay near the Klingon border to assist with Diplomatic efforts following the attacks.
Okay, yes, the Undine attack against Earth was a ruse… a bluff to prevent Starfleet from assisting the Undine true targets, the Klingons. Yes, the Klingons had lost more ships and personnel then Starfleet had, and it’s true that these attacks did end the war between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. All that’s true, but damnit, he should be back at Earth or Argo assisting his friends, and getting ready for whatever the Undine, or the Iconians, should throw at them next.
He… his door chimed and his eyes shifted to it in anger. As if to say, ‘how dare you interrupt my thoughts?’ After a moment, however, K’tiess sighed and all he said was, “Enter!”
The door opened abruptly and Commander Drectit, K’tiess’ Ferengi First Officer, walked in. He paused when he noticed how his captain was seated. K’tiess just looked towards his first officer without moving his head or hands then muttered, “Have you seen this?”
“Sir?” asked Drectit in confusion.
K’tiess sat back in his chair and roughly motioned towards the computer before placing his hands in his lap. “The Cherokee, the Alonnah, the Bloom, all lost. The Cherokee had time for some to get to the escape pods, but the other two…” K’tiess got quiet as his anger began to get the better of him. For a moment he let the anger swell, but then pushed it away. Anger wouldn’t help his friends.
After allowing his captain to calm Drectit steped up to the desk, letting the door close behind him, and noded to K’tiess. “Yes, sir. I see the same reports you do, and I’ve lost friends just like you have.”
K’tiess looked up at his First Officer with chagrin and nodded, “Yes, of course you have. I’m sorry, old friend, I didn’t mean any offense.”
Drectit started shaking his head before K’tiess even finished his sentence. “It’s fine, Captain,” he said, “I just felt you needed a reminder.” He then sat on the edge of the desk and turned the computer so he could read a bit of the report. “Did you know those ships, or the crews?”
K’tiess nodded. “Yes, I did,” he replied. “Captain Trellel of the Cherokee was at the academy with me, and so was Captain Drune of the Alonnah. We used to play poker together… on Friday nights… when we should have been studying. Captain Sullivan of the Bloom… she… she and I were… close… for a time.”
Drectit just nodded, then asked, “Did any of them make it, sir?”
“Yes, Captain Trellel. He’s going to lose an arm, a lung, and possibly part of his heart from a plasma burn, but the doctors are confident he’ll survive,” K’tiess replied. “The other two, however..,” he finished by just shaking his head. “Damnit, Drectit, first the Borg attack Vega, then the Undine start… or did the Undine come first?” he shook his head. “Who haven’t we been in conflict with over the last year?” K’tiess waved away his last question without waiting for Drectit to reply. He then let out a long sigh before he said, “Starfleet has held its own, but there are times I wonder how…” he let his voice trial off. “You didn’t come in here just to listen to me vent, did you?” he asked after a pause.
“No, sir, I didn’t,” replied Drectit. “You have a communique from…” Drectit paused. “Well, sir, it’s from a Klingon. Drok’ma, Son of Hundek, of the house of Dorok. They were rather specific about using the full name, sir.” K’tiess just nodded for his first officer to continue. Drectit smirked as he looked down at his captain, “He also instructed me to refer to you as ‘qagh Sopbe’ which didn’t sound very nice to me, sir.”
K’tiess paused for a moment, almost as if angry, then a smile crept across his face and he chuckled before replying, “It’s not, Drectit, but it’s also a reference to our childhood. He’s picking on me.”
Drectit nodded slowly, obviously confused by this revelation. “I’ve been your first officer for a few years now, and I’ve never heard you talk of any Klingon family. I thought you spent your childhood in the Federation, how did you get to know a Klingon well enough for him to… pick on you?” inquired Drectit.
“That’s a good question, and a story for another time. I’ll take the call in here, please put him through.”
Drectit, realize he’s been dismissed gets up to leave. He pauses at the door, however, when K’tiess says, “Oh, and if he complains about how long he’s been waiting… tell him ‘'oH SoH qotlh’, please.” Drectit nodded once, in obvious confusion, before he stepped out of the room. The door closed behind him, and a moment later K’tiess’ computer chimed.
He reached over and pressed the button to answer the call. After a momentary pause the screen lit up revealing a Klingon warrior with dark tan skin, a rounded face with green eyes and high cheekbones. The Klingon had a scar running from his hair-line, down the left side of his face, but missing the eye entirely. What hair was pulled back in top knot that revealed the prominent forehead and sharply defined ridges. He turned those eyes upon K’tiess and smiled. “Brother!” he greeted loudly, before saying, “You managed to survive the war. Apparently you’ve not forgotten all that I taught you!”
K’tiess laughed in response then nodded and said, “I’ve never forgotten anything you taught me, Brother. You’re lessons were well taught, and impossible to forget.”
“Ah, and you learned them well. We never had to teach you anything more than once, and you were never one to fall for the same prank more than once either. Something you taught our fathers on more than one occasion, as I recall.” The Klingon paused, “So… I deserve it, do I?”
After a short chuckle K’tiess blatantly ignored the question. Instead he asked, “How is Hundek?”
“He’s dead. He died at the Battle of Defera when the Breen first attacked.” He paused before he continued, “You would have been proud, Brother. I was there! Our father stood with his back to a wall, his Bat’leth held in his right hand because his left was broken. A dozen soldiers were firing at him, and a dozen more lie dead, scattered around the room. Even as their energy weapons burned his skin… he charged. Not one Breen was left standing by the time our father finished, and then he simply lay down and went to Sto’vo’kor. It was a glorious death, and one for which more than one song has been written.”
K’tiess nodded, “He would be pleased with such a death, though if there aren’t at least a dozen songs for his final stand I think he’d be disappointed.”
A loud belly laugh escaped the Klingon, “Of course! We shall have to write one ourselves, Brother!”
K’tiess lowered his gaze slightly and said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Drok’ma…”
With a suddenly stern gaze and gruff tone Drok’ma interrupted, “You honor him with your words, don’t dishonor his memory with your regrets. He loved you like a son, and he was always proud of you. You are a warrior, K’tiess, of the house of Dorok. When the war started Father knew you’d fight. He knew you’d do your duty, and he was all the more proud of you for it.” The Klingon paused, “Would you believe he even wanted to find you? He wanted to meet you in battle, to see what you’ve learned, to see how you fought when faced with a real battle! He… He was just as glad he never did, though. He’d have hated to die by your hand.”
“I will still miss him, Brother”
“As well you should.”
“I’m not sure I’d have won that fight.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. It didn’t matter to him, Brother. He followed your career with great interest. We all have. A warrior and a diplomat? A man of peace and of war? You carry the heritage of two peoples, K’tiess, and you wield it as a warrior does a sword. The Borok family salutes you, Brother!”
K’tiess nodded and took a deep breath, “You honor me, Brother. To what do I owe the honor of you contacting me now?”
A curt nod and Drok’ma said, “You might have heard that the war is ended! It’s time for us warriors to put down our weapons, tend to our dead and wounded, then celebrate the fights and the lost friends, as all Klingons do!” There he paused and grew somewhat somber, “and Mother would never forgive you if you didn’t stop by and share a meal with her. She’s even been storing fresh gagh to prepare for you. She says Starfleet never did feed you right.”
K’tiess laughed hard and nodded, “Of course,” he said, “I’d love to see her. It happens that I’ve been assigned to the Klingon border anyway, to assist with “Diplomatic Efforts” or so they say. Personally, I think they just want me to keep an eye on your people. Or, perhaps, help should the Undine attack Qo’nos again.”
“Fah, let them come!” said Drok’ma with heat in his voice. “If the qa’meH quv want to attack Qo’nos again I say let them come! We are ready for them, this time, and will happily send them to Grethor.”
“I believe you would, at that. Is the House of Dorok defending Qo’nos?”
Drok’ma nodded and said, “Yes, we are. It is a great honor for the council to grand us that duty. There are others, also, but Dorok shall take the lead.”
“Well, the council could do worse!”
Again Drok’ma nodded, and lowered his voice as he said, “So what shall I tell mother?”
With a smirk K’tiess replied, “Tell her I’ll be there in two days, and to keep the Gagh fresh.”
“I’ll tell her. Qapla’, Brother!”
“Qapla!” and the computer went dark.
(Edited for spelling and spacing)