Star Trek: My Brother's Keeper: Constitution by Michael Jan Friedman

Author:Michael Jan Friedman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Star Trek, Fiction
ISBN: 9780671019198
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1999-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Kang, son of K’naiah, strode the broad central corridor of the Klingon vessel Stormwind, acutely aware of the warriors he passed going in the opposite direction—and in particular, the expressions on their faces.

After all, one or more of those warriors might have been coming from the captain’s quarters, and that was where Kang was headed at the moment. It was always good to get some inkling of the captain’s mood before one imposed oneself upon his presence.

Unfortunately, no one whose face he searched seemed particularly distracted. No one looked as if he or she had been congratulated or rebuked or threatened or encouraged. They simply had the look of Klingons going about their daily business.

Not helpful, thought Kang. Not helpful at all.

He wished dearly to know why the captain had summoned him. Certainly, he had earned himself something of a reputation for arrogance, but that was hardly an offense among his people. In fact, some would say it was a quality well worth cultivating.

A moment later, Kang came in sight of Captain Ibrach’s quarters. There was a single guard posted outside—a very large, very powerful warrior named Anyoqq, who eyed Kang as he approached.

It wasn’t just Anyoqq’s size that made him so [134] fearsome-looking. It was also the oversized disrupter pistol tucked into his belt and the long, deadly dagger whose hilt protruded from his boot top.

But Kang didn’t allow himself to be intimidated. Instead, he stopped in front of the giant, looked up confidently into his broad, bony face and said, “The captain has summoned me.”

Anyoqq regarded him with his tiny black eyes as if he were thinking about pulling Kang’s arms and legs off one by one. Then he gave a hard rap with his mighty knuckles on Captain Ibrach’s door.

The captain’s réponse came through an intercom grid built into the bulkhead beside his door. “What is it?” he rasped.

The giant pointed to Kang. “Your name,” he demanded.

“Kang, son of K’naiah,” said the youth.

Anyoqq glanced at the intercom grid for a second. Finally, Ibrach replied. “Send him in,” he said.

The giant stepped aside and jerked his big, scarred thumb in the direction of the door. “Go,” he rumbled.

Kang didn’t wait to be told twice. As the door slid aside for him, he entered the captain’s anteroom.

Ibrach was seated on a heavy metal chair with furs strewn across it. A disrupter pistol lay on one of its armrests, mere inches from the captain’s hand. After all, the life expectancy of a Klingon commander was directly proportional to the ambition of his officers, and the Stormwind was known to have some ambitious officers indeed.

“Kang,” said Ibrach, a broad-shouldered man with [135] long, gray hair that fell around his shoulders and a thick, drooping mustache.

The younger warrior slammed his fist against the left side of his chest, just above his hearts. “My captain.”

Ibrach eyed him from beneath his prominent brow ridge. “I understand you have been demanding things from your superiors,” he said.

Kang straightened. “I have.”

The commander’s lip curled beneath his mustache.

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