Literary Challenges : The Library Computer
View Single Post
Join Date: Dec 2007
Not to yield
05-22-2011, 02:57 PM
Stardate – 88994.40
Vice Admiral Matt Miracle recording.
I just received a communication from Starfleet Command. My half-sister’s ship was involved in some heavy fire fighting with the Klingons at P’Jem. I am pleased that T’Elanna is ok and that there were no serious casualties reported. I keep staring at ‘my’ Bat’leth hanging in my ready room and I am reminded about my blood ties to the Empire.
I was only six when my father was killed when the ship we were traveling to hit a mine left over from the Dominion Wars. Mom and I had only a moment before the deck we were on became open to empty space. We were lucky that a passing Klingon cruiser was coming to our aid. Mom was critical for a while and the Empire tried to locate any of my surviving families only to discover that my mother and I were the only ones left. My ‘adoptive’ father, Kort, was a young (by Klingon standards) officer on the ship and for who only knows reasons, started talking care of us When Mom was out of critical condition he asked her if she would grant him temporary custody.
After Mom healed, she and Kort spend time together and eventually, fell in love. They were married in a traditional Klingon ceremony when I was 9 and T’Elanna was born the next year. When I turned 12, I was officially accepted into the House of Kort and ‘began’ my training as a warrior. My father instructed me on everything. Sometimes, he took into account that I was human while other times he didn’t but each time I got knocked down, I got back up. My father used to say that I had Kahless’ spirit but, due to my human body, the strength of a Grishnar cat. Nonetheless, my father was proud.
My true test as a “warrior” came years later when my father entered me into a Bat’leth tournament. The tournament was open to the oldest male in the house under age which left me as the only participant. I was used to being ridiculed by the other Klingons so fighting the insults was a way of life for me. I advanced in the tournament (which I found out later cost a few Klingons their hard earned wages) much to the surprise of all. I made it to the semifinals which my mother called “the Final Four” (after some old basketball tournament madness) before my skills were tested to their breaking point.
Korlet was a “true” warrior in every sense of the word. When he drew my name to fight next, he was insulted and would not fight a Pahtak like me. After suffering through this tournament, I was not going to let my honor or my families be called into question. I challenged him and we began our dance with blades. After several minutes, it became clear that I was out matched but I could not back down. My ribs were broken and I was bleeding internally. Losing consciences, I stumbled but did not go down. My opponent, in a show of sportsmanship, asked me to yield and I refused. He held the Bat’leth to my throat asking again for me to yield and I refused again. That was the last thing I remember before waking up in a hospital bed. The details surrounding my final moments were filled in by my family. At the request of the champion, Korlet, I was to be given third place honor which came with a ceremonial Bat’leth. That same Bat’leth is now on display in my ready room reminding me to never forget where I came from and always to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.