By Nathan Warner
A dying Klingon takes his final last mission into the heart of the Romulan empire to reclaim his honor against an aged-old traitor
Captain Korbal smiled as he watched the Romulan defense forces scrambling to intercept the KreeVal and it's "wingman" the KorVal - two aging Klingon D-7 warships, mothballed just last year. An aged Klingon like his ship, Korbal had never seen battle, having instead served the High Council as an advisor to the Chancellor. But last month he had been diagnosed with terminal heart failure and had grown too weak to walk. This changed everything.
As the leader of the house of Korath, he declared to his family that he would die in battle to satisfy his honor and secure his house the respect of the Klingon High Council, which had refused to give them a seat due to the past treachery of their house. With no war progressing after the end of the Dominion War, Korbal turned his eye to old grievances - and who better than the very traitor from his own house who had earned their name dishonor. Yes, his uncle, the traitor DreVal who had killed his parents when he was young and assassinated several noble warriors in cold blood.
No one knew for sure when DreVal had been turned by the Romulans to be their agent, but for many years he had killed Klingon warriors from the shadows with impunity. When his treachery was discovered, he fled to the Romulans and continued to serve them in war and peace. But his blood-lust had been a bit of an embarrassment even to Romulus, and once he turned 102, they quietly retired him to a life of wealth, pleasures, and consulting for the military - despite several attempts to extradite him back to Qo'noS. It seemed fate desired a resolution to this predicament, for Korbal had recently learned the location of DreVal’s spacious estate, just outside the Romulan capital.
Since the day of their deaths, the memory of Korbal’s un-avenged parents burned in his mind - more-so now that he neared death. He had always assumed he’d catch up with DreVal one day, but now the days had come to an end and his family's blood lay un-avenged in the dishonor of a relative.
"Romulus...yes, to Romulus, I will go!" he had rasped from his sickbed. After some reluctance, his family finally assented, and they quietly collected a small crew of volunteers - dishonored warriors all - who pledged to help Korbal gain his honor and regain the honor of his house as well as their own.
Two weary, old D-7 Battle Cruisers were found to carry them for the mission. After all, they were not intent to start a war, but die with honor. And what better way to dishonor their foes than to bloody their noses, riding into battle on two decrepit rust-buckets. Korbal was counting on Romulan pride to quietly sweep his little endeavor under the rug, if he was successful. After all, what self-respecting Romulan would want to officially acknowledge something so embarrassing?
The trip into Romulan space took careful planning and it was slow and methodical, much to the irritation of Korbal. It took ages for them to get underway. And then, more than once, he had to fight down the urge to decloak and open fire on some passing Romulan convoy or patrol, but he bit the temptation off with the thought of the great glory awaiting him. “If I live long enough to see it!” he complained often to his helmsman. At long last, after navigating asteroid belts, trailing along in comet tails, and zigzagging through the entire southern half of the Romulan Empire, they arrived in orbit of the great planet itself. After a few hours of assessing the enemy’s strength and locating DreVal’s estate twenty miles out of the city, Korbal and his escort decloaked above the Romulan Senate, disabled a Valdore warship docked at a nearby port, and obliterated half a dozen orbital defense platforms. From high above the Senate, it took longer than he expected for a reaction to his greeting, and he spent the time magnifying the streets below, watching the panic ensue on his viewscreen with a chuckle.
After nearly a minute had given enough time for the orbital debris to flare down through the upper atmosphere, a hail came, and Korbal took it. A young Romulan officer who looked like he’d been caught napping, stared quizzically at Korbal.
"Why have you provoked an attack on the Romulan Empire and what is your intent?" he asked arrogantly. Korbal smiled.
"I do not act for the Klingon Empire, nor are they aware of my visit here,” he rasped. “I and my crew claim this planet as our own and we expect your immediate surrender." The silence was golden.
“How dare you…” the Romulan started, but Korbal cut him off.
“Forgive me, my young man, I jest! In truth, I am come to avenge the murder of my family by a member of my house—the traitor DreVal!” All the green blood seemed to drain from the Romulan officer’s face, revealing that DreVal was still considered a valuable asset to the Tal Shiar.
“Very well,” he said “We will see if there is any ‘DeVal’ in our records, and we will discuss this more.” Korbal knew the young officer was playing for time.
"I’m afraid words are too much labor for me these days!" Korbal said raising his hand, "BaH!"
Volleys of photon torpedoes leapt from the throats of the KreeVal and KorVal, glowing bright and deadly red against the planet's green backdrop. Korbal magnified on the DreVal’s estate in time to see the old traitor stumble outside of his magnificent mansion and look up to the sky—directly into Korbal’s eyes. He saw the fear of death and the regret of all his past deeds burn in the glow of the incoming fire. In an instant, the estate was obliterated in dust, smoke, and flames.
“It is done,” Korbal sighed.
“Captain!” his weapon's officer shouted, "two Valdore warships approaching!” Korbal turned his chair back to the screen.
“Set our face to them,” he commanded, “and bloody those proud hooked noses!” Disrupters lanced into the darkness and torpedoes rumbled out of the old ships, shaking the deck plating as the hull moaned and groaned like an old man puffing up a hill too tall. The Romulan ships slowed in their advance - their engines flickered from the impact of the suppressive fire, but in a few seconds, they recovered and unleashed their answer.
“Death and glory!” Korbal whispered, standing up before his screen, bathing in the eerie green glow approaching, “Death and glory!” he cried. And then in a brilliant flash of light and warmth, the bridge dissolved. He was standing in the halls of his fathers - the statues of great men and women everywhere.
He felt hands on his shoulders and he turned to see the faces of great heroes crowding around him, embracing him with heartfelt cries of: “Honor has been avenged! Glory to Korbal, son of Dorbal. Honor to the House of Korath!” And they sang a song for his deeds. Korbal straightened his shoulders, which were no longer bent with age and shame.
“I have saved my house,” he whispered, unabashed by the tears of pure, unsullied joy streaming down his face. He lifted his voice. "I have regained the honor of my people!" he cried, and stepping forward, he joined the welcoming arms of the many warriors that came to greet him as their equal. He joined them and followed them up into the mighty halls of his fathers as the songs of his deeds rang through the pure, unpolluted air of Sto'Vo'Kor - words so honorable that mortal air could not contain their beauty. So began the greatest journey of Korbal, son of Dorbal.
