***    TWENTY-TWO   ***                   236


            The Imperial Throneship, Thunder, sped at maximum warp towards

       the Neutral Zone.  The ship was so large that the space-warp she

       created and passed through, sent mild shock wave distortions in her

       wake.  She had requested that her escort ship, the Javelin,

       increase her speed three times thus far.  No explanation was given

       as to why, but Captain Hamill complied anyway, without question.

       Though he had his own suspicions and ideas as to why, he never gave

       voice to them.

            They had been racing for the Neutral Zone, for many days now,

       and were only just nearing the fringe of Federation space.  Traffic

       had been re-routed in all sectors to give the two ships clear

       passage back to the Klingon Empire.  Both ships would arrive to

       meet up with their respective fleets soon.  Although they shared

       the same destination, each clearly had their own destiny.

            On the Thunder, Garth sat in the large and heavy chair that

       resided behind the Emperor's desk in his private study.  The lights

       were dim, simulating night on the ship, and the light that dared

       shine, cast shadowy images upon the walls.

            The lone man slowly sipped a cup of hot sZuraal, savoring the

       thick animal broth.  The aroma wafted up into his nostrils within

       curls of steam, as he held the mug to his lips and sipped. Neither

       seeing the cup, nor the desk, nor the contents of the room, he

       looked past all that was before his eyes, to the future.  The

       future of what would be.  Worlds to conquer, systems to plunder,

       fortune and glory for the taking.  That is what awaited him.  He

       was about to lead the way for others to see.  He saw in the

       distance, the strong flocking to his banner, to his call.  And of










                                                                      237
       himself he could see, the only hand that could hold the limitless

       power of the stars.

            That would be soon.  The anticipation was stimulating.  He

       could feel the adrenaline release itself in the pit of his stomach

       and surge through his veins.  'I alone have attained what no other

       could dream of,' he mused.  'And who could stand against me?  Let

       him come.'

            He continued gloating over the ease of his victory on Earth.

       Something that he had been doing since he returned to the ship.

       All had gone according to the plan.  The Federation now wanted him.

       They did not realize just what they would get.

            James Kirk was the icing on the cake.  He could not have

       wished for a more proper ending to the festivities of the

       Admission, than by having the defeated Captain at his feet,

       helpless.  It was beyond any planning of his own.

            "Or was it?"  He was startled to hear his own voice speak

       forth in the silence.  The thought occurred to him that it could

       have been his plan.  He embraced the thought, for with it he now

       believed he had arrived at the reason for his greatness.  He could

       not be just a man, anymore.  For there are limits on men, in their

       intellect, in their bodies and in the power they wield.  But Garth

       knew no limits.

            He felt as if he had reached a door, the last door that had

       hindered him from being all that he could.  He wrestled with

       something deep within him.  A thing that had dogged him and

       hindered his will from the beginning.  A thing that must die, as a

       seed dies, to give birth to a great tree.  If it would not die on

       its own, after all this time, Garth would kill it!  He would be










                                                                      238
       the stronger for it.  The purer for it.

            He waged an unyielding battle against this thing that has

       haunted men from birth, denying its power and authority over him.

       With everything in him, he strove against it.  And then, silently,

       in the darkness of his solitude, it broke.  To Garth's amazement

       and relief, it shattered.  By the will of Garth, the doorway was

       open.  He could now be pure.  He had crossed the last vestibule

       that had obstructed the path to the self-knowledge, that he now

       grasped for.  The knowledge of his deity.  He now laid claim to the

       divine right of god-hood.  His shattered conscience would no longer

       impede him.  He was a law unto himself, without the burden of

       guilt.  For without the knowledge of sin, there is none.

            'All I do is righteous,' he said to himself, and began to

       believe it.  'My will is truth and the only perspective that

       matters is mine.' He tried these thoughts out, and they felt

       good.  And thus his insanity was complete.  And the galaxy was in

       all the more danger.

            A chime at the door drew his attention from himself for a

       moment.  He did not want any distractions.  He wanted rest for the

       war he was about to begin.  Now he would think of it as an 'Holy'

       war.  But the time of his unveiling as a god and his crowning as

       Divine Emperor, was not yet at hand.  So he kept his 'self-

       revelation' secret, for the moment.  Once again he became the

       Klingon Emperor.

            "Enter!" he barked at the disturbance.

            "Lord Tromok." The Chief Admiral of the Imperial Fleet entered

       the room. "You wished me to notify you when your new warp shuttle

       and armor had been completed."

       








                                                                      239
            "Well, has it?!" he asked as his patience decreased

       exponentially.

            "Yes, Sire.  If you would like to see it now," Sorr could

       see that his Emperor was in a mood most foul.  He could not have

       been farther from the truth.

            Garth was elated.  Only now he was so consumed with himself,

       that his view of Sorr was that of a gnat that should be swatted

       rather than reasoned with.  It wasn't his mood, it was his new way

       of looking at reality.  It was evil.  And it too, wore many faces

       in one man.

            "Lead me on, then!" he growled.  His voice was not quite that

       of the Emperor anymore.  Neither was it Garth's.  It nearly froze

       Sorr in his tracks, but he forced himself to move on.

            Sorr led his master through the darkened halls of the vast

       ship.  They were empty except for the Emperor's Guard, that

       followed them where ever they went.  They took a lift down four

       levels and emerged in a long corridor with fine paintings and

       ornaments on the walls.  They strode down the dim hall until Sorr

       came to a halt.  Finally they had come to a launch bay that bore

       the Imperial crest upon the door.  It opened for Sorr with the palm

       of his hand and admitted both of them into the private bay.  The

       Emperor's Guard waited for him outside, ready to trail him when he

       again emerged.

            The lights came on the moment the door had closed behind them.

       And then he saw it.  There in the center of the bay, black and

       sleek, set the Emperor's new warp-shuttle.  A beautiful machine,

       arrowhead-like in shape, with four aerodynamic fins in the rear,

       that would allow easier planet-fall and more responsive movement in

       








                                                                      240
       any atmosphere.  Powerful weapons turrets were placed along each

       side giving it more fire power than any existing vessel of that

       size.  Her engines had not been altered; she was already fast

       enough.  However, there was room for more fuel and equipment, now

       that it had been changed from a group transport to a single-pilot

       ship.  The number of her deflector shields had been increased by

       half and they would be used for output for a miniature cloaking

       device that had now been installed.  It even boasted a single

       transporter platform.  All told, it was an amazing little package.

            Garth approved of the design, for it was his.  He was

       satisfied with the workmanship and the color was a bonus.  This was

       indeed the ship he had envisioned.  He walked up to it and placed

       his hands on the smooth surface.  He smiled when he looked into the

       smoke tinted cockpit window and saw the gleaming black battle-armor

       that awaited him.

            Sorr came up behind his emperor, watching him, seeing if he

       was satisfied with the vessel.  He saw the gleam in his eyes as he

       moved beside him.

            The Emperor brushed him aside and moved towards the hatch,

       never taking his eyes off the ship.  "Open," he spoke towards the

       door in the ship's side.  The hatch split in the middle, pulling

       half of itself upwards and the other down.  A ramp extended itself

       from the opening to the deck by his feet, silently.  He stepped up

       the ramp and entered his streamlined craft.  He moved through the

       short entryway into the cockpit.  He began eyeing the controls,

       tactical weapons console and the new computer terminal where the

       co-pilot seat had been.  Then he looked at the massive full-body

       armor that sat in the pilot's seat as if someone were in it










                                                                      241
       already.

            The Emperor wrestled it from the seat, removing the helmet,

       setting it gently on the floor.  He then began to suit up.  It was

       heavy gear, weighing at least ninety kilograms, but it was designed

       to also serve as an exo-skeleton, amplifying Garth's own physical

       strength.  When powered on, any movement he made within the suit

       would be immediately sensed by the suit.  It would then instantly

       move accordingly, with the heightened power of a machine.

            He pulled the chest/back unit over himself, then the arm and

       gauntlet pieces.  They magnetically sealed themselves to each

       other.  He donned the girdle and upper leg pieces, then pulled the

       heavy thruster boots on.  He looked down at the back of his

       forearms, seeing the disrupter barrels extending down their length

       towards his fists.  All he need do is point his arm at an enemy,

       and it would be an enemy no more.

            There was a dark joy in the Emperor's heart, as he picked up

       the bullet shaped helmet and lowered it over his head.  He locked

       it into place with a slight twist.  There were two eye slits,

       covered with transparent aluminum panes and a rectangular speaker

       grid, where his mouth would be.  Suspended within the transparent

       aluminum view ports was a Xenon mist that would act as an

       electronic imaging screen, for his heads-up display.

            "Power on," he commanded.  He felt the air processors kick in

       and before his eyes, he saw red letters and numbers appear.  They

       informed him of the suit's power levels and internal temperature,

       in Klingonese, of course.  They indicated his weapon's state of

       activity, his boot thruster fuel level, suit damage indicators and

       deflection output registers.










                                                                     242
            He felt invincible.  He could conquer a planet by sheer force

       alone, with this ship and armor.  The power cells that energized

       both machines were also inventions of his own.  Their projected

       power curves made him nearly as powerful as the federation ship

       that they now followed.  And he could, if he so desired, tear this

       ship apart with his metal covered hands.  He turned around fully

       satisfied, and exited down the ramp, every step a thunder of metal.

            Sorr marveled at the shining ebony giant coming toward him,

       booming every time his boot hit the deck.  He looked to Sorr like a

       warrior from the bowels of hell.  For though the Klingons had no

       devil, they too held the belief in a place of eternal damnation.

       The vision that Sorr now beheld looked as if it would be at home

       there.

            "Ship, power on," Sorr heard his Emperor speak, and the

       cockpit came to life.  Indicators glowed, the engines pre-warmed

       themselves and the craft rose, ever so slightly, on a cushion of

       anti-gravitons.

            "Personal defense," Garth spoke, and his armor's weaponry

       became active.  Targeting systems came on line, disrupter cannons

       charged, and the suit's deflector shield came up.  Within the

       helmet, a deep and dark laughter emerged.  It rumbled through the

       shuttle hanger for several moments, then ceased as quickly as it

       had emerged.

            Silently the gleaming ebony helmet turned towards Sorr.  He

       spoke nothing.  He just stared at the Admiral, as if he were

       determining Sorr's fate.  Then the right metal arm rose, aiming the

       disrupter barrel at the Admiral's mid-section. The mouth of the

       weapon glowed red, with promises of death.










                                                                      243
            Sorr's eyes widened. The Emperor had changed, he knew.  He was

       certain that, whatever the cause of this change, he was as

       dangerous to the Empire as he was to the Federation.

            "My lord, no!" he said, dropping to his knees.  "I have

       always served the Empire well, lord Tromok."

            The targeting system locked onto the Admiral, analyzed the

       target in a nano-second and reduced power considerably.  It had

       been designed to conserve energy.  Acquisitioning the power

       necessary to completely destroy the target, but no more.  Thus

       enabling it to continue in a fire fight for longer periods of time.

       All worked perfectly.

            "Energize," the Emperor's voice spoke forth, suddenly.  The

       black armor began to sparkle and flash, and was gone.  Then the

       sinister laughter began anew from within the bowels of the dark

       warp shuttle of Garth's design.

            "Admiral Sorr," spoke Captain Kom over the ship's intercom,

       from his post on the bridge.  "Please inform lord Tromok that we

       are now within sensor range of the Federation fleet, this side of

       the Neutral Zone.  We should reach them within the hour."

            Sorr arose and stepped over to the comm. box at the nearest

       wall of the bay.  He punched the sender and simply spoke,

       "Acknowledged."

            He approached the shuttle to see the black suit emerge once

       more.  "Emperor Tromok, we are nearing the Federation fleet.

       Intercept should be less than one hour."

            "Excellent!" the deep voice erupted from the speaker.  "Let us

       prepare for the final battle!"

                               *         *         *










                                                                      244
            Captain's log, Stardate: 5868.3

            "Our mission has thus far failed.  I take full responsibility

       for it.  We were attempting to divert a war of galactic

       proportions, by attacking the one who is in the process of

       initiating it, Garth of Izar.  The result has made me an outlaw, to

       the very Federation I have sworn to protect.  And Garth, in the

       guise of the Klingon Emperor, is racing toward the Neutral Zone to

       begin his war.  There seems little in his way to prevent him.  But

       we are not yet without hope.

            I have been liberated from my prison by the Vulcan Ambassador

       Sarek.  He is presumably attempting to reveal the evidence that I

       have provided him, to the rest of the Assembly council.  However,

       his success will not be soon in coming for the council can not vote

       on this issue until all members are recalled and or, replaced.

       That too is a result of my actions.

            Since the Klingon Empire is now a Federation member, I have

       returned the captaincy of the Fury to its former Commander, Kang.

       I am now a passenger on the Klingon ship that has become my

       transport back to the Enterprise.  From there, we will hasten to

       the Neutral Zone, and attempt to launch a counter offensive against

       Garth.

            Kang and I have devised another plan, much of which is

       dependant upon Spock.  If he has taken my final words spoken to

       him, to heart, we will have one weapon of equal power to Garth's

       weapons.  But just one.  The rest of the plan will be in Kang's

       hand.  Even if Garth is stopped, a war is still possible between

       two peoples, now that we are not under the Organian accord.

            Presently we travel in stealth, with a Klingon version of the

       








                                                                      245
       Romulan Cloaking device.  Still we are a hunted ship.  There have

       been many patrol vessels searching for us.  Thus we cannot contact

       anyone over sub-space communications without disclosing our

       location.

            I have learned a hard lesson these past few days.  I have

       grossly underestimated my enemy.  Many may die in payment for that

       mistake.  But I will not underestimate him again.  I have also

       learned that my view of the Klingon people has been unfair, and

       narrow in vision.  I had placed my trust in Kang, out of necessity

       and he has not let me down.  Honorable yet fierce, he is someone

       whom I am not ashamed to call my friend.

            End log.

            Captain James T. Kirk grew weary of waiting.  The Klingon

       vessel had few comforts in comparison to the Enterprise, and there

       was little to do that would occupy a mere passenger.

            Kang had given Jim full access to most of the ship, including

       the bridge, but Jim did not feel at home on it.  He spent most of

       his time in Kang's quarters, trying to learn the Klingonese

       alphabet, and expand his vocabulary, so he could understand the

       signs and labels on the ship.  He had also learned to identify

       certain symbols that stood for words as well.  Such as the symbol

       for 'Restroom' and under it, the symbol for 'Occupied'.  He had

       embarrassed himself several times, merely by being ignorant of the

       meanings, of their most basic symbols.   All in all, he found that

       the more he studied Klingonese, the more his head throbbed.

            Kang had been good company of late.  Jim had began to look

       forward to the talks with the man, often lasting long into the

       evening.  They would not exchange any military information, nor










                                                                      246
       discuss topics of politics or policy.  But the tales of the battles

       they had fought, the jokes they shared, this was what had bridged

       the cultural gaps between them.  The food, however, did nothing to

       help their inter-cultural relations.  Jim had lost seven pounds on

       the voyage.

            The doors to Kang's cabin opened with a shoosh, and Jim awoke

       from a brief sleep that had overtaken him while sitting at Kang's

       desk.  Flint and the woman again resided within his short dream, he

       noted.  As Kirk looked up, he saw that it was Kang himself who

       entered and took a seat across from Jim.  Kang allowed the Starship

       Captain to clear the fuzziness from his mind before he spoke.

            "Captain, we have picked up a Federation message that

       indicates the arrival of the Emperor's Battleship at your side of

       the Neutral Zone.  It confirms that they have more than two solar

       day's advance on us," Kang spoke firmly.

            The Neutral Zone, is a vast stretch of territory.  If the Fury

       had followed the Thunder directly, they would have been perhaps,

       eighteen hours behind.  As it was, they had to pursue at an angle,

       in order to intercept the Enterprise, that is now skirting the

       Neutral Zone.

            "That was what we had thought.  His ship is a fast one too,"

       Jim stated.

            "We, on the other hand, have intercepted the approximate path

       that your Enterprise should be on, in heading for the Federation

       Fleet.  We are not sure whether we are ahead of it or behind it."

            "Well, I agree with you that we can't afford to spend time

       back-tracking," he said, hoping Spock had his ship somewhere in

       front of them.  "But have we scanned for them as far astern as










                                                                      247
       possible?"

            "To no avail, I'm afraid," spoke Kang, solemnly.  "We must
       
       continue forward now.  If the real Emperor yet lives, every moment

       that we delay places him in greater jeopardy."

            "I understand," Jim said.  Had he been captaining this vessel,

       he would be forced to do the same, regardless of his personal

       feelings.  If the Emperor could be rescued, it would take this

       ship, cloaked, to get near enough to accomplish it.  If war was

       to be averted, it may very well take the real Emperor to hold back

       his Empire.

            "There is still every chance that your Starship is ahead," the

       Klingon offered as encouragement.

            'If not, I may never see her again,' he thought to himself.

       "We need the Enterprise," Jim said, knowing they could not turn

       back.

            Kang remained silent.  He knew how much his ship and crew

       meant to him.  It was unfortunate, but unavoidable.

            The silence between the two became uncomfortable in a very

       short time.  Jim decided to change the subject.  "How is your wife

       feeling?" he asked.

            "Mara is fine," he said abruptly.  "A slight case of space-

       sickness, nothing more," he added.  Falling sick, even mildly, was

       a sign of weakness in the eyes of a Klingon.  It was not the

       subject of casual conversation, as it was for humans.  Sickness

       was treated as something 'distasteful'.

            "Glad to hear it," said Jim. 'Wrong subject,' he thought.

       "How about another game of Chygaak?"

            "I find no challenge in defeating you consistently, Kirk.  Why

       








                                                                      248
       don't we try that game you keep bragging about?"

            "It's called poker, and I don't have any cards," Jim said.  "I

       did, however, use that very game to save my ship from an alien

       spacecraft near the Gamma Trianguli system."

            "It must have been an alien of low-grade intelligence," Kang

       stated, with humor in his voice.

            "No," Jim replied, "It was no where near Klingon space."  He

       gave a casual smile to his friend.

            "Continue with your tale, Captain," Kang enjoyed the hearing

       and telling of the stories as much as Jim.

            "At the time, we were doing routine star-charting in an

       unexplored sector of space," Jim began.  "We encountered a space

       buoy, of sorts, that seemed harmless enough at first.  But it began

       emitting dangerous radiation and would not let us pass.  We were

       sort of 'stuck' to the buoy.  Finally we destroyed it and headed

       on."

            "I would have destroyed it in the first place, Kirk.  You seem

       to waste most of your time trying to make friends with things that

       would kill you, anyway," Kang spoke with the authority of knowing

       the man before him.

            "Like you, Kang?" Jim posed.

            Kang paused in thought for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the

       comment.

            Jim saw Spock in front of himself for a split-second.  'Absent

       friends,' Jim silently sighed to himself.

            "Kirk, I find that we are two ends of the same Targ.  We reach

       in two different directions, but are joined together happily, in

       the center.  I, however, am the end with the teeth," he stated, now










                                                                      249
       producing a genuine smile. "That makes you the 'hind' end," He began

       to laugh deeply.  Jim joined him in the laughter.

            "Commander Kang," Mara's voice cut through the laughter.

       "Commander Kang, We have a Starship registering on our forward

       scanner.  I believe we are closing on the USS Enterprise.

            Jim slammed his fist on Kang's desk-top. "Yes!" he said in

       excitement.

            The two rose from their seats in unison and headed out the

       door.  It took great effort on Jim's part to keep his stride at the

       same pace as Kang's.  Jim would have sprinted to the bridge, but he

       restrained himself for the commander's sake.

            The doors to the rear of the bridge parted.  Both Jim and Kang

       tried to pass through but their shoulders collided with each-other,

       wedging them temporarily in the doorway.  Jim pulled back, allowing

       Kang his rightful place in front of him.  They both entered,

       looking at the bright dot on the forward viewer.

            Kang looked to the Captain, observing him for a moment.  Jim

       realized that he was being stared at and returned the glance.  Kang

       extended his hand toward the command chair, indicating that Jim

       take the center seat.

            "The honor is yours," spoke the swarthy Klingon commander.

            Jim nodded his acceptance to his counterpart and stepped

       around to the front of the chair.  Slowly he lowered himself to

       Kang's chair and rested back into it.  This is where he belonged.

       Though it was not his ship, his home, he could think of no other

       office that could take the place of his captaincy.  He would, of
       
       course, miss this ship.  And the crew that had staked their lives

       on the word of an enemy Starship Captain.










                                                                      250
            "Course?" Jim asked the helmsman.

            "Bearing 3-3-7 mark 4," he said.

            "Time to intercept?" the Captain asked.

            "Twenty-three of your minutes, Captain," Mara Offered.

            "Helmsman, Alter course to 3-3-7 mark 7."

            "Altering course, Sir."

            Kang looked down at the captain.  "You wish to pass your

       ship?" he asked.

            "Let's just say, I wish to surprise them," he said.

            The dot became more pronounced as they closed on the lone

       Starship.  Its shape became increasingly discernible with every

       minute, as they closed on it.  Gracefully, she cut through the

       blackness of space.  The Captain sat in awe at the beauty of his

       ship.  From stem to stern, she was still the majestic vessel he had

       always dreamed of captaining.  They came within ninety kilometers

       of her, passing her broadside to port.  Streaking past at an

       incredible rate, they intercepted her path.

            "Mara, ship to ship communications, on my command," Jim said

       to the Science Officer, substituting for Navigation and

       Communications Officers.

            "Helmsman, bring us about, then all stop," spoke the Captain.

            The powerful Klingon ship slowed as it made a tight arc and

       pointed its prow toward the oncoming Federation Starship.

       "Answering all stop, Captain," the helmsman said.  The Fury faced
       
       the Enterprise unflinchingly.

            "Disengage cloaking device and hail the Enterprise.  Audio

       only," Jim commanded.

            The lights on the bridge began to show brighter as the vessel

       








                                                                      251
       became visible to the entire spectrum of light.

            "We are uncloaked, Captain.  Enterprise is on speakers," spoke

       the wife of Kang, softly but with authority.

            Kirk lowered his voice to his deepest bass, and added a

       distinct Klingonese accent to it.  "Federation Starship!" he spoke

       to the Enterprise on the short range channel. "Heave to, and

       prepare to be boarded!  Weapon's Officer, nuqDaq qabwij

       vIlamHa'choHmoH!"

            The Weapons Officer turned questioningly toward the gold and

       black clad man.  He spoke in a whisper, as not to be heard over the

       communication system.  "Does the captain truly wish me to tell him

       where he can get his face cleaned?"

            "Jim!  I mean, Captain, is that you?  Are you all right?"

       the Vulcan voice enquired, obviously able to discern the identity

       of the Captain.

            "Spock, I am here, and yes, I'm fine," Jim said with a great

       gladness in his heart, regardless of whether or not his little joke

       was successful.  In the background, Jim could hear Uhura shout,

       "It's the Captain!  He's back!" to the rest of the crew.

            "We had heard of your jailbreak, Captain.  I was completely

       taken aback when my father was implicated in the crime." Spock

       halted himself, realizing that he was on the verge of expressing

       emotion.  "What happened to you, Captain?" he asked in a more

       formal tone.

            "Later Spock," Jim said.  "I'll explain everything later.  Let

       me get my things and I'll beam over.  Kirk out."

                               *         *         *

            Jim arrived in the dim Klingon transporter room.  Kang and










                                                                      252
       Mara were present to see him off the Fury.  Mara stood behind the

       controls and prepared the unit's destination coding.  Kang waited

       patiently beside the her.

            "Transporter is ready, Captain," the pretty Klingon woman

       stated professionally.

            "Thanks, Mara," Jim said, "For all you've done."

            "It was my honor serving under your command, Captain Kirk,"

       she said with finality.  She saluted him in Klingon fashion.

            "jlwuQ!" Jim said, as he returned the salute.

            Mara smiled forgivingly at the Captain.  "You should stick to

       English, Captain Kirk."  Jim nodded in agreement.

            "Well, Kang, I guess this is it.  You should have about

       twenty-seven hours before we meet again."

            "We will need the time, Kirk.  If our attempt is to be

       successful, we will have to wait for the opportunity to present

       itself before we act."

            "This is our last chance.  Let's hope it is all we need." Jim

       extended his hand for Kang.  Kang grasped it and shook it in

       'Earther's' fashion.

            "So long, Kang.  See you in the Neutral Zone!"  He looked

       across to Mara.  "Ready," he stated.

            "Energize," commanded Kang.

            Mara began the transport sequence, causing Jim to shimmer and

       disappear, painlessly for a change.

            Kang turned toward his wife.  "Come," he said.  "We have tasks

       of our own and plans to make."

            Mara locked down the system, and joined her husband as he

       exited the room.  The doors closed silently behind them.