Kolos: The Missions of the Kah’pow! - Part I

[Dr. Sebastian Hartmann]

[D'Ghor - IKS Kah'Pow(!) - Main Bridge]

"They killed Thovosh's son!!" cried our D'Ghor.

"SeH yaS, activate the cloak, now!

"D'Korr, at the Captain's word, you engage the bagqhol maneuver. That should pull us right behind the lead ship.

"jonwl', Son of K'Dor, be ready to kill our warp core. I don't want these Hageet to get any whiff of our engines through the cloak.

"And someone get me the plans on those K't'inga cruisers!! We need to find a weak point and now!!!"

D'Ghor slammed his fist against a bulkhead and wailed for the death of his friend's son. If he could grab Tavosh's spirit and rip it from the grasps of Gre'thor, he would have. Blasting the Hageet out of the sky would be a poor, second best.

[Calindra Hejaran]

The bridge jumped in action and the cloaking devices engaged on the ship. Meanwhile, the K't'inga cruisers finished their intercept course and ended just outside of weapons range.

"Helm, steady!" Kolos ordered as he got out of his command chair and started pacing the deck, his mind working rapidly.

"A very disturbing set of circumstances, but we cannot rush into battle here, they have demanded to be treated as Honored Subjects, and wish to be recognized as a house! They are using Klingon Law to stake their claim, they will not attack us, unless we provoke them. And while I would gladly jump into battle against them for what they've done, we have a duty to uphold the laws of the empire and also have a duty to the merchants we are escorting. Suggestions?"

[Dr. Sebastian Hartmann]

[D'Ghor - IKS Kah'Pow(!) - Main Bridge]

The death howl was barely out of his lungs when Kolos's measured response hit D'Ghor like a brick.

He shouted back at his commanding officer.

"Captain, we are Klingons not Vulcans! If these bIHnuch want to to use Klingon Law to stake their claim, then they must be ready to fight like Klingons!"

D'Ghor ripped his d'k tahg from the sheath on his chest. The small twin blades snapped out with a audible click and D'Ghor raised the dagger into the air.

"I say we remind the Hageet of their role in the great Klingon Empire. Let us show them that it takes more than a few battle cruisers to send us running!"

[Calindra Hejaran]

[Kolos - IKS Kah'Pow(!) - Main Bridge]

Kolos turned to face his cha'Dich his wide frame fully squared against the older Klingon. "If house P'lesh was so easily overthrown by these Hageet, maybe they were not WORTHY to hold power over this system! Your ties to the house blinds you to your duties, Cha'dich! We will do what is BEST FOR THE EMPIRE!"

With a sneer, Kolos turned to the comm's officer and ordered that they open a channel to the lead K't'inga vessel. "This is Commander Kolos of the Vor'cha-Class Attack Cruiser Kah'pow. Please give me a reason to grant my first officer's wish and seek retribution for what you have done to House P'lesh! Explain yourselves!!"

The bridge was charged with tension, the kind that only comes when honor and duty collide head-on. The crew stood frozen in the aftermath of Kolos's rebuke, watching the interaction between their commander and his cha'Dich. The words had struck like disruptor fire, leaving a silence thick with unspoken challenge.

Kolos could see that D'Ghor's knuckles whitened as he gripped the hilt of his d'k tahg. His jaw was clenched, nostrils flared. He was an old warrior, tempered by battles against enemies foreign and domestic, but the sting of Kolos's words cut deeper than any blade. His loyalty was to Kolos, to the Empire, but his heart roared for vengeance, but hopefully D'Ghor would turn his ire on the view-screen and not his commander.

The viewscreen flickered, static crackling before resolving into the image of a K't'inga bridge. The lighting was dimmer than standard, casting long shadows across the scarred face of a Hageet warrior standing at the center. His armor bore no family crest—an intentional insult or a sign of desperation, Kolos couldn't yet tell.

The unidentified Hageet glared through the screen, his lip curled in a disdainful sneer. "Kolos of the Kah'Pow, I am Sak Rowlk," he drawled, voice gravelly with age. "You speak of retribution, but what retribution is there for dishonor? House P'lesh grew fat on the backs of the Hageet. We answered their challenge and won. The Empire respects strength, does it not?"

[Calindra Hejaran]

OOC: Sorry - did not have time to post this yesterday.

[Kolos - IKS Kah'Pow(!) - Main Bridge]

Kolos's eyes narrowed. "Strength without honor is treachery. You demand the Empire's recognition, yet you bathe in the blood of its servants. Tell me, what proof of your worth have you beyond a dead governor and stolen battlecruisers?"

The Hageet chuckled lowly, gesturing to someone off-screen. The camera shifted, revealing the dilithium mines on Hanasa. Klingon corpses lay strewn across the rocky ground, weapons shattered beside them. At the mine's entrance stood Sakmet Yanap, the Hageet leader from the earlier broadcast. He raised his bloodstained hands to the camera.

"We claim what we have earned," Sak Rowlk said, voice raspy but defiant. "This world was ours before your Empire took it. Now, we reclaim it, as equals—or as ashes." The Hageet chuckled lowly, gesturing to someone off-screen. The camera shifted, revealing the dilithium mines on Hanasa. Klingon corpses lay strewn across the rocky ground, weapons shattered beside them. At the mine's entrance stood Sakmet Yanap, the Hageet leader from the earlier broadcast. He raised his bloodstained hands to the camera.

The image returned to the shadowed Hageet commander. The bridge remained deathly silent. Kolos sat back in his chair, fingers tapping the armrest in measured rhythm.

"You claim House P'lesh is cowardly and dishonorable, and blame your people's treatment as proof, yes?" Kolos said suddenly, an inkling of an idea forming in his head. "Well then, if you can convince my second officer of their cowardly and dishonorable conduct, I will personally petition the High Council in your defence, but be warned, the Empire will lay waste to all of your kind if you fail to convince us. Do you agree to these terms?"

On the viewscreen, the shadowed Hageet commander narrowed his eyes at Kolos, weighing his words. A moment passed in tense silence before he spoke.

"You would have us justify ourselves to one of your own?" Sak Rowlk's voice was a growl of suspicion. "Klingons have never judged fairly when it comes to those they conquer."

Kolos smirked, arms crossing over his chest. "You invoke the right of Honored Subjects, yet you doubt our willingness to uphold Klingon law? Or perhaps you know your claim lacks the weight to stand against our scrutiny? My cha'dich will be hard to convince, but he is a wise and honorable man," Kolos added playactingly.

The insult or the placation struck its mark. Sak Rowlk's mouth twitched, and the Hageet beside him exchanged uncertain glances. Finally, the commander inclined his head, his pride forcing him forward.

"We accept your terms," he said, his voice dripping with challenge. "We will prove that House P'lesh was unworthy. And if we do, you will petition the Empire to recognize our right to rule."

Kolos nodded, eyes flicking toward his second officer, D'Ghor. The older Klingon's expression was unreadable, but his fingers flexed near the hilt of his dagger.

"Very well," Kolos said, steel in his tone. "We will meet on neutral ground. The orbital fortress above Hanasa will serve as the site for this challenge. I will send my second officer and a delegation of his choosing, and you will present your case. There, we will see if you are worthy... or if you are nothing more than murderers in stolen armor."

The transmission cut, the viewscreen fading back to the sight of Hanasa and its orbiting warships.

"The cha'dich will need volunteers!" Kolos growled.

[Dr. Sebastian Hartmann]

[D'Ghor - Bridge - IKS Kah'Pow(!)]

The elder Klingon took a breath, forcing his adrenaline - and the blood lust that came with it - down deep into his gut. The fire would remain as a hot, burning flame - a pilot light ready to explode into action should the need arise. His commander had chosen the path of diplomacy and D'Ghor would obey. The pointless loss of Tavosh's life would be dealt with later.

After all, revenge is a dish best served cold.

---------

D'Ghor reached over to a panel in front of him and thumbed a button.

"Son of K'Dor, your presence is requested in Transporter Room 3 for a... diplomatic mission. Please bring anything you need for field engineering. And bring your sword."

After a quick look around the bridge, D'Ghor's gaze fell on on medical officer.

"Daughter of K'tal, I have need of your services. Please bring everything you know about the Hageet and your med-kit. You may need to return my arm to its rightful place again. Or... help me set my mind to right."

Then, with spine straight, D'Ghor addressed his commander:

"The away team has been assembled, sir. We shall respect this petition from the Hageet, but if they have acted without honor, our retribution shall be as swift as the claws of Fek'lhr."

[CJ Dawson]

J'rar wasn't sure about any of this thinking they would be betrayed the second they stepped on board. Hageet, in her eyes, had no honor. Diplomacy it was but if it was her choice she had chosen another path. She kept her opinion inside but the feeling of anger brewed.

The adrenaline was there in a second when D'Ghor wanted her to come with. Maybe she wasn't the best choice at this moment but was ready to face everything the Hageet would throw at them. "As you wish, D'Ghor." she said and nodded, making herself ready. The bloody Hageet made her blood boil and it would take all her strength to come at this the diplomatic way. But she would oblige but one wrong step even though she was a healer, she would blow.

[Calindra Hejaran]

[Hanasa Fortress - Landing Site]

As the away team materializes on the rugged surface of Hanasa, the air is thick with tension and the scent of burning resin from nearby torches. The beam-in site is a vast, open courtyard carved into the side of a craggy mountain, its stonework both ancient and worn, yet reinforced with modern Klingon and Hageet engineering. Towering banners flutter in the strong planetary winds—some bearing the Imperial Klingon emblem, but house P'lesh's flags are now defaced or altered, while others display the sigil of the newly declared House Hageet, a stark and defiant contrast to the old rule of House P'lesh.

Before the crew can fully adjust to their surroundings, a formation of Hageet warriors—each clad in overlapping plates of chitinous armor, their colors reflecting their caste and station—stand rigidly at attention. Their weapons, a mix of traditional serrated polearms, batleths and confiscated disruptor rifles, remain at rest but close at hand, a silent message that this welcome is offered with respect, but not with submission.

Their leader steps forward, a striking figure among them. His body is adorned with battle scars, each one a testament to countless struggles, and his mouth twitches slightly as his eyes study the Klingons before him. With a deliberate and measured movement, he brings a thick, plated fist to his chest with a resonant thud, his voice carrying through the crisp air.

"Qapla'!" he intones with deep reverence, the guttural Klingon word emerging oddly from his alien mouth, yet spoken with the weight of understanding.

A chorus of echoed Qapla's rises from his warriors, their voices unified in their show of respect. The leader then spreads his lower arms outward—a Hageet gesture of trust and acknowledgment—before continuing in accented but deliberate Klingon.

"We welcome the representatives of the Kah'Pow, servants of the Empire with the honour that is expected and deserved of equals."

His eyes flicker across the Klingon delegation, gauging their reactions. There is no mockery in his tone, no attempt at deception—only a firm belief in the words he speaks. Around them, other Hageet warriors stand motionless, disciplined, awaiting the response of their Klingon counterparts.

[Dr. Sebastian Hartmann]

[D'Ghor - Hanasa Fortress - Landing Site]

How many planets had D'Ghor beamed down to in his career? How many tense situations where hands rested centimeters from weapons? How many diplomatic meetings that quickly devolved into brawls?

For a moment, D'Ghor's age caught up with him. The weight of too many battles pulled his shoulders down. He sighed. Straightened his spine and raised his head. He pulled the dusty air deep into his lungs and called out.

"I am D'Ghor, son of D'Kara." He paused, letting the words echo off the battlements.
"To my right is J'rar, daughter of K'tal." Again, he paused, letting their names ring.
"Behind me are warriors of the IKS Kah'Pow(!) and the Klingon Empire." He gestured to the well-armed and rather violent looking fighters who waited his orders.

But the presence of the fighters did not put D'Ghor at ease. The Hageet outnumbered them at least three to one. They had the high ground. D'Ghor felt exposed.

But he stared the Hageet leader directly in the eyes, as if taming a targ by will alone.

"You claim the rights and honor of equals," he called. "You may attempt to prove that status. But I warn you. There is no honor in running swords through the backs of others. And if we find you without honor, there will be no hope for your miserable existence."

[CJ Dawson]

[D'Ghor - Hanasa Fortress - Landing Site]

How many planets had D'Ghor beamed down to in his career? How many tense situations where hands rested centimeters from weapons? How many diplomatic meetings that quickly devolved into brawls?

For a moment, D'Ghor's age caught up with him. The weight of too many battles pulled his shoulders down. He sighed. Straightened his spine and raised his head. He pulled the dusty air deep into his lungs and called out.

"I am D'Ghor, son of D'Kara." He paused, letting the words echo off the battlements.
"To my right is J'rar, daughter of K'tal." Again, he paused, letting their names ring.
"Behind me are warriors of the IKS Kah'Pow(!) and the Klingon Empire." He gestured to the well-armed and rather violent looking fighters who waited his orders.

But the presence of the fighters did not put D'Ghor at ease. The Hageet outnumbered them at least three to one. They had the high ground. D'Ghor felt exposed.

But he stared the Hageet leader directly in the eyes, as if taming a targ by will alone.

"You claim the rights and honor of equals," he called. "You may attempt to prove that status. But I warn you. There is no honor in running swords through the backs of others. And if we find you without honor, there will be no hope for your miserable existence."

[J'rar - Hanasa Fortress - Landing site]

Even though she looked calm on the outside as if it was surrounding her, her inside was a total battlefield. The tension inside her was building up; she could even feel the adrenaline pump through her veins.

Never let them show your weakness, not even in the slightest. she would never forget what her Blood Sisters taught her. The ones that taught her everything she knew about life, about healing. And now she was standing besides the Klingon that taught her everything about combat, battles and what not. J'rar had put her trust in him a lot of times and now she was here to support him in any way he needed. Her home was on this ship, with these Klingons and their stories.

She crossed her arms, straightening her spine, letting her strength shine through. Her eyes lingering for a second on D'Ghor, she saw a slight change in his demeanor only for a split second. But she didn't let it show to the outside, her face still with no emotion. Her eyes were now scanning the Hageet, the foul smell reaching her nose.

When D'Ghor said her name she only huffed, still scanning them. She was on high alert because she still didn't trust them. Right now she could only wait and hear what the Hageet had to say but they all knew they had their weapons at the ready.

[Calindra Hejaran]

The Hageet warriors stood motionless as D'Ghor spoke, their chitinous armor gleaming under the stark planetary light. The only movement among them was the slow, measured shifting of weight as they listened. And then, at his final words—"There is no honor in running swords through the backs of others."—a deep, guttural snarl rippled through their ranks.

The lead Hageet warrior, the same one who had greeted them with a fist to heart, now stepped forward, his posture shifting from reverence to something far colder, far more dangerous. His black eyes narrowed, and when he spoke, his voice was low and simmering with controlled fury.

"You insult us, D'Ghor, son of D'Kara." His teeth clacked together, punctuating his words. "You speak of honor as if we are scavengers, as if we slither in the dark, striking at shadows."

"We are not assassins, nor are we cowards. We fight our battles face to face, as warriors should. House P'lesh ruled through cruelty and subjugation, yet we endured. We have not asked for your approval, only the right to stand as equals. But we waste words—come, see who we are."

He gestured with one of his lower arms, and from behind him, several figures stepped forward.

They were female Hageet, their carapaces polished with ceremonial oils, their bearing regal and unshaken by the hostility in the air. Each moved with deliberate grace, their four arms folding in intricate, practiced gestures as they approached. Then, without hesitation, they parted their armored chest plates, revealing the shimmering masses within.

Thousands of blue and red orbs—eggs, delicate yet numerous, cradled within the protective recesses of their exoskeletons—gleamed in the open air. The sight was mesmerizing, alien, and undeniably profound. The Hageet females stood proud, their expressions unreadable, but their intent clear.

The warrior's voice resonated through the tense silence. "These are our daughters and sons. They are the future of the Hageet," the warrior said with quiet pride. "This is what we fight for. This is why we will not bow again."

Behind them, elders of the clans stepped forward, their shells etched with the marks of time and countless battles. They stood in solemn dignity, the living history of their people written in the ridges of their chitinous armour and their skin.

Then came the laborers, the artisans, and the young—those who had known nothing but servitude under House P'lesh and now stood free for the first time. Their mandibles clicked softly in unison, a chorus of quiet resolve.

[Dr. Sebastian Hartmann]

[D'Ghor - Hanasa Fortress - Landing Site]

,,You have beautiful children, Hageet. And there are few causes more noble than fighting for their future."

D'Ghor held his fist over his heart for a moment and let it fall.

Then, he smiled, showing his jagged teeth.

,,But, tell me, Hageet. Are we to parley here in the fields? Would you do us the honor of sharing the hospitality of your people?"

D'Ghor itched to take his warriors away from this killing field they were standing in.

,,We have shown each other our swords. Now let us drink wine together. But first, tell me your name, Hageet. What am I to call you?"