The Adventures of Jean-Luc Picard
The Adventure of the Noble Warrior
by Jasjit Singh
(jasjit@uranium.dashmail.net)

The Adventure of the Noble Warrior

The U.S.S Stargazer was traveling through space at high warp. An urgent message had been received from a Federation colony on Moldavia IV; there had been severe flooding and the people of Moldavia IV were in desperate need of medicines, blankets, shelter, and warmth. The Stargazer was the closest starship that could respond within an acceptable time frame, and so they now found themselves hurrying towards Moldavia IV.

Jean-Luc Picard, First Officer aboard the Stargazer, sat in his quarters, reading. Not from the ancient Earth book, Moby Dick, unfortunately. His hobby lay on the table in front of him, opened to chapter two, put aside quickly when the news came from the captain regarding the situation on Moldavia IV. Now Jean-Luc was studying a pad, which detailed incoming reports of latest casualties on the planet. And on another pad, he worked. Entered numbers. Assigned resources. Estimated losses. Calculated required rations, based on what the Stargazer could provide in a reasonable time frame. Energy and resource allocation was critical when it came to supporting a ravaged planet and it's inhabitants.

It was dim in his quarters. Outside the window stars flew by impatiently, one after another, some faster than others, some which were very distant didn't even seem to move at all, among the backdrop of black space. He had been off duty for two hours now, but still sat in his uniform, calculating, estimating, working out possible scenarios for disaster relief...

The doorbell chimed. Picard looked up, distracted. Then he said, "Come."

The door slid open and an uncertain looking boy stood in the doorway. He must have been about fifteen years of age, with black skin and long, loose limbs. He was very tall for his age, almost as tall as Picard. He was looking into the dim room with uncertainty.

Seeing him Picard put his pads down on the table and stood, straightening his tunic.

"Ah, Mizi," said Picard, smiling. "Come on in. Computer, increase illumination forty percent."

The computer beeped in acknowledgment and the room became brighter.

Mizilikizi Chanda walked into the room more confidently now that it was well-lit.

"You've been working?" he asked incredulously, noticing the pads on the table. Picard waved a hand.

"Ah, just some light reading. Wanted to catch up on the, er, cultural values of the Moldavia settlement. I want to make sure that our rescue efforts are not impeded by any cultural mis-conceptions. Would you like some tea?"

Mizi blinked. Picard, seeing his face, said, "Ah yes, let's see. Orange juice?" Mizi grimaced. "Raktagino? Tarkelian tea?" Mizi was shaking his head.

"You better quit while you're ahead sir," he said.

"Alright," Picard surrendered. "What do young men such as yourself drink these days?"

"Root beer!"

After the replicater had delivered the Earl Grey and the Root Beer, Picard and Mizi sat on the sofa chair just underneath the window fill of stars.

"Are people going to die on this mission?" asked Mizi.

"Not if we get to them in time," replied Picard.

Mizi nodded. And then: "When you go down there, I want to come with you."

Picard looked at the boy, considering what exactly to say. A reprimand, or an elaborate explanation of how the planets surface would be unsafe for a fifteen year old human boy. Finally, he said: "Why?"

"Well, I guess, I want to know. I mean, I have read about disasters and planet-weather patterns losing control. But I've never seen it. You know. I know what you're thinking. The holodeck. And I've done that. The program you wrote for me, with the earthquake simulations? That was very good. But I mean, I've never actually been on an alien world during a catastrophe. It's like I've been living my entire life inside this starship, ensconced in Federation protection. And when I am down on a planets surface, it's with the weather patterns all controlled and regulated, to create the ideal temperature and climate."

Picard smiled, and looked around at the confining quarters. He understood well what Mizi was describing. He had felt it himself, many years ago, when he was younger than even this young man.

"A planet with natural disasters can be a dangerous place," he said.

"I know. And I'll take care of myself."

"Alright, when we have completed the rescue operations, I'll take you down to the planet. There wont be much to see, really."

Mizi nodded, a big smile spreading across his face.

"Commander Picard, report to the Bridge immediately!" The comm signal was cut off as abruptly as it had been initiated.

Mizi had left for the arboretum, and now Picard was striding out the door, even as he responded "On my way."

On the bridge of the Stargazer, Captain Keel was standing in front of the viewscreen with an urgent expression on his face. The ship had slowed to impulse power, and Picard could see what the problem was. The viewscreen showed two vessels exchanging phasor fire. The larger of the two was an uncloaked Romulan warbird, glowing green and menacing in it's huge size. A massive lumbering giant, just trembling and inching forward slowly at the moment. The smaller of the vessels was a Klingon shuttlecraft, no larger than one of the small Type-I Federation shuttles. It was flying around the Romulan warbird, firing phasors at full intensity, but they did not seem to have any effect. And with every strike that the warbirds phasors had on the Klingon shuttle, it was weakened severely.

"They are completely outmatched," T'Pau observed. Keel wheeled around, eyes glittering.

"What is the status of the shuttle?" he demanded.

The Second Officer, Michiko Hatta, who was at the tactical workstation, responded: "The shuttles shields are down to thirty percent, and it is venting plasma. It cannot take many more hits. And if the plasma is ignited--"

"Has the Romulan warbird responded to our hails?" Keel demanded.

"No sir," replied T'Pau.

Keel growled. He turned and walked to his seat. As he sat, he turned to Picard on his right. "Jean-Luc, we have to disable the warbirds weapons, at least long enough for us to save the shuttle pilot. There is one life sign on board. And I don't want to lose him."

Picard nodded, rose from his chair, and walked to the science station. Do-reth Sainor stood working quietly at his post. As Picard approached, he said: "The warbird is not under cloak. We can fire a phasor directly at their engineering section, and destroy their control center for weapons control."

"How do you know that their control center is in engineering? And how do you know where their engineering section is, for that matter?" asked Picard, somewhat surprised.

Sainor turned to look at Picard, his eyes sparkling. "Because, Commander," he said, with a hint of a smile," I have served on a Romulan warbird."

Picard stood astonished for a moment. Then he said "Carry on, Mr. Sainor." And as an afterthought: "Someday we will have to have a long talk about your past careers."

Sainor grinned and programmed the computer to fire short controlled bursts of phasors at specific regions of the warbirds hull. Moments later he announced: "Ready to commence firing."

Picard was back at his seat. Keel sat quietly, considering, contemplating, weighing the alternatives. The Klingon shuttle continued to fly around the warbird in evasive maneuvers, like a little fly buzzing around some giant lion. There were only seconds left. The warbird was preparing to fire.

"The shuttles sheilds are down!" Michiko announced urgently. Picard looked at Keel.

"The warbird is in the neutral zone, sir," he said to Keel, "if we fire on it--"

Keel cut him off. "We risk starting a war with the Romulan Empire. Yes, I know. But that Klingon shuttle is outmatched. And according to the Kittomar accords, the Klingons and the Federation are allies. I will not sit around and let an ally be destroyed. Helm, take us in. Mr. Sainor, you may fire."

As the Stargazer moved into the fray, phasors fired simultaneously, and the warbird's hull was breached. Sainor smiled to himself as the phasor fire from the warbird ceased. The ship shimmered and vanished. The shuttlecraft seemed to be adrift in space.

"Status!" cried Keel.

"The warbird has cloaked, sir. The shuttlecraft has lost shields. There is a breach in the hull."

Keel was on his feet. "Transporter chief! Get that Klingon out of there! Helm, maximum warp!"

Picard walked into the conference room and stood just inside the doorway. The room was empty, except for a single Klingon seated at one of the chairs on the conference table. He had been taken to sick bay and treated for minor injuries. Now he sat silently at the table, staring down at his hands.

"I am Commander Jean-Luc Picard. You are aboard the Federation starship Stargazer." Picard was curt, but the Klingon seemed oblivious to him. He did not move, or look up. Picard waited for an acknowledgment for a while longer, and then he walked slowly to the side of the table, and looked out of the windows towards the gleaming stars.

"Your shuttle would have been destroyed. And you along with it. Why did you engage the Romulan warbird?"

No answer.

"You would have been killed, your death would have been in vain."

"I would have gone to Stovl-kohr." It was the slightest whisper, like a sigh. Picard wheeled around and faced the Klingon. He did not seem like an old man, but he had long rich locks of hair, which cascaded majestically down over his shoulders. A high forehead, and sharp, prominent ridges. He had wide shoulders and a good physical build, although now he seemed almost slumped in his chair. He wore no uniform, but he did have the emblem of the crest of his house worn across his chest. An elaborate design of swords and batleths, all intertwined and mingled to form the emblem and the name. Picard noted it, but said nothing.

The Klingon looked up at Picard, met his eyes. Picard did not waver. The Klingon looked at Picard curiously, as if surprised that he had been taken captive by a human. Then he spoke in a voice, deep and rich, clear with certainty, and without a trace of hesitation:

"For obstructing my path to Stovl-kohr, Commander Picard of the Federation Starship Stargazer, I will kill you."

Picard straightened up, stood for a moment, uncertain. And then, suddenly, smiled. It was a huge lopsided grin, and accompanied with it some nodding, and a little chuckle. This was enough to puzzle the Klingon.

"I like you," said Picard elaborately. "What is your name, Klingon?"

"I am Kempek, son of Dorath," replied the Klingon, with a growl at Picard's apparent mirth.

"Kempek, son of Dorath," Picard sat down at the table, opposite Kempek. "We are going to sit here, until you tell me exactly what it was that you were trying to do out there."

"Then, Picard of the Stargazer, we will be seated a long time," said Kempek evenly. Picard chuckled again, this time almost bursting into laughter. Then he shook a knowing finger at Kempek and settled back into his chair, shaking his head and grinning widely.

The Klingon frowned at him.

Klingons are not noted for their patience.

Seventeen minutes later Kempek was pacing the floor, gesticulating wildly, and roaring in his deep rich voice. "What is more glorious than engaging the enemy, and destroying one of their warships?"

There were several bottles of blood wine already emptied on the table, and Kempek held one in his hands now. As he spoke he put it to his lips and drained it. Picard sat politely in the chair, nursing his first untouched bottle of blood wine.

"But that Romulan warbird was not going to be destroyed," offered Picard. Kempek staggered, held on to the wall to steady himself. Then he nodded emphatically.

"And that, Picard of Stargazer, is why I, Kempek, son of the glorious Dorath, would have entered Stovl-kohr!"

Kempek was lost in thought for a minute, and Picard worried that he had remembered his earlier oath. But Kempek merely shook his head, as if trying to recall a distant memory. "I," he began at great length, "am a warrior. And furthermore, I am an honorable Klingon. For a Klingon, " -- and he shook his finger at Picard -- "honor is most important. It is above all else, do you understand, Picard of Stargazer?"

Picard nodded as a student to a teacher. "I understand. Go on."

Kempek shook his head sadly as he swayed back and forth on his feet. "My family, my house, they cannot be dishonored. This was the one way, the one way, to re-gain my family's honor, and to let them live as true Klingons, as well they are!" And he nearly shouted, "They deserve nothing less!"

Picard nodded. "And now that you have failed..."

"Now that I have failed, " Kempek's voice was even again, almost sober, "I will have to return to Q'onos, return to my family in disgrace. And they will continue to live without honor."

* * *

Keel was not very understanding. "How did you manage to get the story out of him?" he had asked, when Picard had made his report.

"A little persuasion," Picard smiled.

"Your negotiation tactics will come in very handy someday, you could make an excellent diplomat, you know."

"Oh, I shudder at the thought, Captain."

Keel considered Kempek's motives and then finally announced that he saw no other alternative but to escort Kempek back to Q'onos. The escort was necessary, Keel observed, due to the fact that Kempek had no shuttle, and in addition, someone needed to make sure he made it home in one piece. "After he gets there," said Keel, "what he does is his business. We have this crisis on Moldavia IV to deal with. We will be meeting with the U.S.S Fury shortly. We can drop off Kempek there. Picard, I want you to accompany him to Q'onos, make sure everything goes smoothly. We will rendezvous with you there when the crisis on Moldavia IV has been addressed."

"Aye sir."

The U.S.S Fury was a small, hardy ship. It had a small crew, but they were battle-hardened, and did not blink an eye when informed that they would be taking on a suicidal Klingon as a passenger. Upon Mizi's entreaties, Picard asked Keel to allow Mizi to travel with him. Keel, who was preoccupied with the crisis on Moldavia IV, simply said "Hm? what? Oh yes, Jean-Luc. Permission granted."

Kempek was confined to his quarters during the trip to Q'onos, although he was permitted to move about the ship with an escort. And since Picard had been talking to him earlier on the Stargazer, he was not at all surprised when his door chimed and Picard walked in, wearing that insufferable huge grin on his face.

Kempek snarled at him.

"What do you want, Commander?" he growled.

"Oh, I thought you must be terribly bored, with nothing to do here," said Picard, surveying the room, "so perhaps you might be interested in a little training on the holodeck?"

"Fighting holodeck characters is of no interest to me."

"Oh, I was not suggesting you fight holodeck characters..." Kempek's brows went up.

The holodeck program was an excellent one. It created a battlefield which was dark, gloomy, and had several hiding places for the enemy. Picard and Kempek stood in the center of a clearing, which was surrounded by large boulders and low gnarled trees. There was damp earth beneath their feet, and a faint smell of rain in the air.

Kempek sniffed the air. "This is a very good recreation of the fields on Borath," he declared.

"Thank you," said Picard, walking to one of the boulders, "I try to be immaculate in detail. Computer, batleth."

"You wrote this program?" Kempek seemed astounded.

The computer produced two batleths hanging from the rock face, and Picard lifted them both.

"Don't be so surprised, Kempek. I am somewhat of a student of the Klingon world."

"Indeed, " said Kempek, taking the batleth as it was offered to him, "but are you as good a fighter as a student?"

"That," said Picard, taking his stance, "we shall see. Defend yourself!"

And without any further warning he swung the batleth and launched himself at Kempek, who stepped aside and averted Picard's blow. Even as he swung around, Picard was making another lunge for him. The steel of batleth's clashed and sparks flew as the blades scraped against one another. Picard was quick, for a human, and surpisingly powerful. The force with which he swung that batleth, he might have been a Klingon twice his size. Kempek smiled, for the first time in months, he had forgotten the disgrace which had been his constant companion. He was actually enjoying himself now, and for a moment there was bliss on his face. But it faded just as quickly as it had arrived, and he was left with the stark bitter truth, that of a failed mission, and a family in dis-honor. He faltered. He felt something sweep his leg. He tumbled, and fell heavily on his back, the human towering above him, the sharp blade of his batleth pressed close against his neck, pricking his flesh and even drawing a trickle of blood.

Picard offered Kempek a toothy grin, and then laughed, withdrawing the batleth, and instead offereing his hand to help him up. Kempek took it.

"You fight well, Picard of the Stargazer," he said haltingly.

"You are not so bad yourself, Kempek," replied the human. "Care for another round?"

And so they fought. And as the Klingon warmed to the human, so he opened his heart to him. And Picard learnt the reason why the house of Dorath was suffering dishonor.

"My father, Dorath, was not an honorable Klingon. He was a mockery of everything that is Klingon. He was no warrior. He did not earn his place among the honored dead. You see, while he lived, his chased women and alcohol, and was constantly intoxicated. And when he died, he died miserably, a dis-honorable death, he died of an overdose of his intoxicating drugs, while in bed of one of the pleasure women! And after his death, his dis-honor passed to his family, and to his eldest son, me. We are all now disgraced, and live without honor. We used to be a proud house, a house of Lords, but now we are reduced to nothing. Because of the cowardice of my father. For he could not fight the greatest battle of all, the battle inside. For he can only be called a true Klingon who fights his battles in his own mind first, and conquers his self, before he goes to conquer others. Because my father died in dis-honor and passed his dis-honor to his family and to me, I have to regain that honor, for my family's sake. And the only way to do that, is to die honorably, and find my way to Stovl-kohr, so that my family can live in honor again."

Picard nodded, and placed a hand on Kempek's shoulder. Kempek, sweating and shuddering and shaking, gritted his teeth and nodded his head. His eyes were glistening with tears.

"And that was why, Picard of the Stargazer, I went to attack the Romulan warbird. I wanted to give my family back the honor which my father so carelessly threw away, because he was a coward. And now, I have failed in my mission."

He turned abruptly and headed for the door.

As the doors slid open and Kempek stepped out, he almost collided with Mizi, who was standing outside the holodeck. He snarled down at the boy, who looked up with an open mouth and a shocked face. Kempek ignored him and walked away. Mizi shook himself to recover, and then saw Picard in the holodeck and quickly walked inside.

* * *

Q'onos was a humid, moist world. The mean temperature was one hundred and twelve degrees Fahrenheit, and it was a world which was constantly plagued by heavy rainfall. Although Picard found it a tad uncomfortable, the Klingons seemed to love it.

They first went to the shrine in the capital city, where the famed High Council convened. There, Kempek gave obeisance to Kah'less, and the older Klingon Gods. Picard watched him, standing just outside the temple. He seemed very calm and peaceful while in the temple, Picard thought, not at all like the troubled Klingon he talked to on the Stargazer.

After the visit to the temple, they went to the house of Dorath. It was a shock for the family to see Kempek again. They had expected him to be dead by now, in glorious Stovl-kohr. As they stepped through the doorway, Kempek first, and Picard following, the family members all turned their eyes upon Kempek, some standing, like his ancient mother, and some, the younger children, still seated. From behind everyone else, Kempek's wife, Shuari, rose to her feet in astonishment, but her eyes were fixed upon Kempek.

Picard studied Shuari. She was exceedingly beautiful, with deep black eyes, high cheekbones, and a proud face. Long, rich hair, just like Kempek, flowed majestically down her shoulders and cascaded down her back. And in her eyes, there was no accusation, no anger, no disappointment. There was only love, and joy at seeing her husband return alive. But she could not fathom how. Picard winced. How her life must have been in turmoil the past few days while Kempek was away.

Shuari stood back at a respectful distance, not being the woman of the house, but her eyes were transfixed upon Kempek. She would not let him go, not now. It was Kempek's mother who spoke first: "What are you here for, Kempek, son of Dorath?" She addressed him in the formal method.

"Dear mother, failing to reach Stovl-kohr, I have returned," he replied. She regarded him for a moment, her ancient eyes pondering something which he could only guess at. Then, slowly, he gaze shifted, from him to Picard. She looked back at him, and then shuffled back to her bed, with the children helping her back down on to it.

"Why do you bring the Federation with you, son?" she asked, more softly this time, as a mother to her son.

"He is the Picard of the Stargazer, dear mother. He is the one who bested me," replied Kempek, still stiff, still hurt, still ashamed. His mother looked briefly at Picard.

"You, are not what you seem, human," she said, nodding at him. "I have seen many of your kind in my time. You are deceivers, you look weak. But I can see it in your eyes. So, you took my sons victory from him?"

"It was not a fair fight, he would have been destroyed," said Picard. She waved a nonchalant hand. Picard's temper rose. He stepped forward to speak. Kempek's hand barred his way. Picard said to the mother: "You would not know what opponent your son chose to face?"

She began to turn her face away.

"I will be heard!" said Picard sternly. She stopped, and turned back to him.

"What opponent?" she asked, merely a whisper.

"A Romulan warbird."

"Indeed," she looked at Kempek again, "It would seem, son, that this human is more fitted to the task than you. We are left destitute."

Kempek's teeth were gritting. Picard could sense the tension in him. Then he saw Shuari, still standing back, but her eyes never leaving Kempek.

"There is one way," the mother spoke again. "Since you, Picard, bested Kempek, you must duel with him. And repeat your victory over him. And when he is dead, then honor shall be returned to the house of Dorath."

Picard turned to Kempek. "Is that the law?" he demanded.

Kempek nodded solemnly. "It is the law."

"Then it shall be," said the mother, and returned to her own musings.

Kempek met Shuari alone in the courtyard of their house. She held him in a long embrace before she struck him with her palm. "You must not duel with the Federation officer!" she cried, looking into his eyes. "If he kills you--"

"If he kills me, Shuari, the house of Dorath will be honorable again, a house of Lords," he said to her. His voice was low, almost pleading. "And what of me?" she replied, her eyes brimming with tears now, "will you leave me a widow?"

He looked away, down, at the damp earth.

"It is my duty, Shuari," his voice was solemn, mourning.

"And what of your duty to me? What of your pledge to be by my side? What of our son, will you not watch him grow, and teach him, and be his father? He is but three summers old. He will never know you, if you let your life be taken by the Federation officer."

"I will not let my life be taken. If he is good enough, he will kill me. But if he is not--"

"You will not kill him. It will not be a fair fight. You will lower your guard. You will do anything to return honor to the house of Dorath."

"You do not know what you speak, woman."

"I know enough!" her voice was strong now, filled with anger. "A Romulan warbird. You picked a Romulan warbird! That is no battle. That is suicide. And there is no honor in suicide!"

He raised his hand, but steadied it, and then lowered it. "I cannot let my family live in dishonor. They do not deserve to live like this, to be looked down upon by every Klingon on Q'onos. We were a powerful, honored house once, in the time of my grandfather, a house of Lords, where many a Klingon warrior would come and pay respects, and I cannot let that be lost. I cannot."

He clenched his fists tightly together. Shuari looked at him sadly. "If the honor of the house of Dorath is more important to you than your own son, then go ahead," she said, her voice cold and distant, "but remember this, Kempek, son of Dorath, follower of the great Kah'less. You cannot redeem your house by suicide. And I, Shuari, daughter of Teelor, will damn the house of Dorath if it robs me of my beloved husband."

And she turned, and was gone. Leaving Kempek to brood.

* * *

"I will not do it," Picard was adamant. "It is foolishness."

"And why, Picard?" demanded Kempek angrily.

"Because I saw you out there in your shuttle against that Romulan warbird. You were merely asking to be killed. That was no battle. You were trying to kill yourself! Is that honorable?"

Kempek seemed distracted. "That is what Parma-kai said."

"You should listen to her. There is wisdom in her words. And she loves you."

Picard left Kempek alone, to think, to brood.

Mizi was not content to stay aboard the U.S.S Fury. They were on Q'onos! He had never been to the Klingon homeworld, and although the Klingon he had run into outside the holodeck had seemed terrible and frightening to behold, he was still curious about the planet, and wanted to go down there. But Picard had left many hours earlier and had not returned yet.

So Mizi had decided to hide away on one of the shuttlecrafts that were transferring cargo down to the planet. He had sneaked out of the shuttle shortly after landing, and had wandered away, not realizing the shuttles schedule, or if it would return.

He had been fascinated by Q'onos itself, and also its inhabitants. Many of the Klingon's snarled at him, some even prodded him, and he had to run out of their way, which made them laugh. He was not being treated very politely, but he figured that must be the Klingon custom.

It was late at night, when he found himself in one of the alleys branching off the main road where the market place had been. He had walked a long way, and was utterly lost. His legs were tired and aching, and he sat down to rest. He also felt a rumbling in his stomach, and realized that he was hungry. Now would be a good time to return to the U.S.S Fury, if he only knew how.

As he sat wondering what to do next, he heard a voice in front of him, and looked up. A dark shape towered above him, and behind it two more looming dark shapes.

"Look," hissed a venomous voice, definetly Klingon, "it's a human. Should we kill it now, or make it run?"

Mizi swallowed. He heard whispers all around. "Kill it now, kill it now." The dull gleam of a knife in the dark terrified him. He was paralyzed. He could not move. He struggled to get up, but his legs gave way beneath him, and the dark shapes closed in, until they were so close, he could smell his assailants putrid breath, and see his uneven rough teeth. Mizi thrust out with his arms, but they were soon in a vice-like grip. "Time to die, patak!" hissed the Klingon as he brandished his blade

Just as he began to thrust his weapon, he yelped, and was pulled back by an invisible force. Mizi squinted in the dark, and saw the knife fall from his assailants hand. He staggered, and jerked backward once, twice, and then fell. The other Klingons left Mizi and surrounded Kempek, who stood above the prone body of Mizi's would-be murderer. They encircled him, with weapons drawn, snarling like a pack of hyena's. Kempek had his batleth in his hands, sliding along his arm as if it was an extension of his own body. He surveyed the attackers and smiled. There were five of them in all. They all attacked at once. But Kempek wielded his batleth with skill, and swung it with an expert's timing, every stroke of the blade found flesh and tore into it. In the end, Kempek alone was standing, drenched in his enemies blood, but standing. The attackers all lay at his feet, bleeding and dismembered; dying, or already dead.

When the battle was over, Kempek walked over to Mizi, who still sat paralyzed. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking down at the boy. Mizi nodded. "Come with me."

Mizi soon found the courage to speak to Kempek. And thank him for saving his life. "It is I, who should be apologizing to you," Kempek said in reply to Mizi's thanks. "Those, thugs, who attacked you had no honor. They do not tolerate any life that is non-Klingon. They are not on the path of Kah'less. They are on the wrong path."

Mizi looked at Kempek, as he sat by the pool, wiping the blood off his face with a wet cloth. "Why did Picard come to the surface with you?" he asked finally.

"Picard, had some business to take care of here," replied Kempek carefully.

"What kind of business? Did it have anything to do with you?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking."

"Did he finish it? He's been down here for many hours."

"No, he did not."

"You sound like thats a bad thing."

"It might be. It might also be bad if he did. It is . . . complicated"

"I know how that is. My Dad used to be in Starfleet. Before he was killed." Kempek stopped washing his face and looked at Mizi.

"He was a warrior?" he inquired.

"Yeah," Mizi answered sadly. "He was stationed on the U.S.S Decatur when it was sent into battle. The ship was destroyed. He was killed while serving on board." Mizi looked down, the silent tears streamed down his face. "I really wish he was here," said Mizi quietly. Kempek looked at the human boy, and remembered something that Shuari had said to him. He laid a hand on the boys shoulder.

"Your father died in glorious battle. You should be proud of him."

Mizi nodded, looking up and wiping away his tears. "I am, but I really wish he was here."

* * *

Picard stood as Kempek entered through the door. At first there was anticipation on Picards face, a question to be answered. Would Kempek demand a duel, or not. But then, as Mizi stepped inside behind Kempek with a tear-stained face , the anticipation changed to puzzlement, and concern. "What happened? How did he get down here?" demanded Picard, walking towards Mizi and making sure he was not injured.

"He found a hiding place on a shuttlecraft. He merely wanted to see the planet," replied Kempek, "he was attacked by a group of thugs, but Kah'less be thanked, I was in the vicinity and was able to get to him in time."

Picard had finished checking Mizi for any damage, and now he stood up and faced Kempek.

"Thank you," he said. Kempek nodded.

"And now there is something you can do for me, Picard of the Stargazer," said Kempek. "Return to your ship. There will be no duel for the honor of the house of Dorath. If dishonor is what my house must bear, then so be it."

Picard smiled. He shook the Klingon's hand,

"Picard of the Federation Starship Stargazer, Kaplah!" said Kempek.

"Kempek, son of Dorath, follower of the great warrior Kah'less, Kaplah!" replied Picard.

As he turned to head out the door, he caught a glimpse of Shuari, smiling brilliantly through her tears as she ran towards Kempek to embrace him.

* * *

The captain of the U.S.S Fury was a Vulcan. He was somewhat devoid of emotion, but it seemed to Picard that he had something of a smile on his face when Picard returned to the ship with Mizi.

"I have been, monitoring your progress on the surface, Commander," he said to Picard.

"It was a wise move, sir," said Picard, nodding.

"I think you will be interested in knowing that I had a conference with Chancellor Du'rak of the Klingon High Council. I brought to his attention the little matter of the house of Dorath, and how Kempek was instrumental in saving the life of a Federation citizen, Mizilikizi Chanda. Chancellor Du'rak knew Dorath, and also knows of his son Kempek, and granted that the house of Dorath will be awarded it's honor again, for the valiant deed of Kempek, in saving the life of an ally."

The surprise on Picard's face must have been evident, for the captain said, in a voice which almost mimicked Klingon demeanor: "It is the law."

The End

"The Adventure of the Noble Warrior"
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© Jasjit Singh, Februrary 1999