The commander of the Gorkon, Klang, was an honorable old warrior who had managed to keep his ship and crew alive and without the barest stain of dishonor for more than forty years. His ship was one of the oldest in the fleet and had undergone more than a dozen major refits. While many Klingons charged into battle hoping only to die with honor so they could go on to Sto-Vo-Kor, Klang wished to be known as one of the greatest warriors to ever live. He wanted his name to be synonymous with Kahless the Unforgettable.  

The officer at the helm turned to look up at the raised chair his Captain sat upon. “Sir, we are approaching the Neutral Zone.” 

“Ahh, it comes down to this. Activate Cloak!” 

A brief shimmer in space surrounded the battle ship and within seconds the star field could be seen through its shadow, then it was gone. Undetectable by any sensors the Romulans possessed. She was an old design that housed new weapons and technology that would make her a match for even a Romulan Warbird. 

Only a harsh red glow and the small lights that covered the various panels illuminated the bridge now. The crew was hunched over their controls; ready to carry out any command their Captain gave them. They all owed their lives to the man who sat upon the center chair, and where loyalty was hard to find in the Empire, Klang trusted every man and woman that served aboard his ship.  

“First Officer, Status!” 

“Weapon systems are on standby, ready to fire when we de-cloak. Shields are also on standby mode. Engine output is at ninety-five percent of maximum. Minor fluctuations in the deuterium flow, but engineering is correcting the problem. Cloak is functioning at ninety-nine point two percent efficiency. All stations read ready General.” 

Klang allowed himself a predatory smile. They were prepared for the hunt, though their mission was one of intelligence gathering. Their orders were to travel into Romulan space and determine if the rumors they had heard about the Romulans preparing for war were true. The High Council wanted to be sure that the Klingon Empire was not about to be attacked. 

They had been speeding through Romulan space for many hours when the officer positioned at the Tactical station addressed Klang. 

“Sir, I am reading a buildup of ships approximately three parsecs from here.” 

“Design?” 

“Various warbirds, birds of prey, scoutships. They appear to be performing wargames; though we are too far away to be certain.” 

“Take us closer. Maintain cloak!” 

As they approached the maximum limits for their short-range sensors, Klang called out for them to come to a full stop. 

“Onscreen, full magnification!” 

The viewscreen brightened with the scene of ships weaving patterns in space while firing low-powered disruptors and deactivated torpedoes. Shields flared on dozens of ships at the same time and bolts of green energy splashed harmlessly against protected hulls.

“General, this is the proof we need!” 

His First Officer was of course correct, the Klingon Empire was about to be attacked by their hostile neighbors and the evidence was staring them in the face. Why else would the Romulans be conducting such mock battles if they were not preparing to invade Klingon space? The Klingons were the only empire that matched the Romulans in power, so their choices were obvious. Klang knew that they would not attack the Federation. It was too powerful. 

Klang had been a young warrior under General Martok and thus had a certain amount of respect for the Federation. Many of his fellow Klingons still harbored the old hatred, but not he. He was a man of vision who realized that the Terrans had accomplished more in the short amount of time they had been in space than any other race. They made a better ally than enemy. 

“We have seen enough! Take us home, maximum warp!” 

The battleship spun in space and warped away, leaving the Romulans to play their games. Klang did not look forward to delivering his report to the High Council. He had hoped that the rumors they had been hearing would prove to be baseless, but now he knew they were true.  

Hours later as they were approaching the Neural Zone again, an alarm sounded on the bridge of the Gorkon. 

“Report!” 

“Sir, we have lost cloak!” 

Klang’s fist slammed into the arm of his chair as he activated the comm system. “Engineering, report! Why have we lost our cloak?” 

“Sir, we had a surge in the engines. It overloaded several taps and damaged the cloaking device.” 

“How long to repair the taps and cloak?” 

“We can replace the taps and have full power in ten minutes, however the cloak will not be repaired for six hours.” 

Klang’s leather uniform creaked as he sat forward in his chair and the ridges on his forehead seemed to stand out with his anger. His voice however was barely above a harsh whisper when he spoke. 

“We are on the wrong side of the Neutral Zone with no cloak and a loss of main power? Get those taps repaired immediately and pray that a dozen warbirds don’t descend on us before we can escape Romulan space! If we don’t get this information back to the Council, then the Klingon Empire could be lost to those green blooded ghouls, all because of faulty power taps!” 

The channel closed as he stepped down from his chair and gripped the helmsman’s shoulder. “Plot us a course into Klingon Space, full impulse. We may not be able to get out of here quickly, but we can keep moving. Tactical, maximum sensor power! If any ship comes within range, I want to know about it.” 

Nine minutes later the report came from Engineering that the taps had been replaced and they could once again go to warp. The helmsman immediately sent them into warp speed but not before the officer at tactical reported that a Romulan ship was on an intercept course. 

Klang was not surprised. It seemed as though fate was always trying to outmaneuver him. “How soon will they reach us?” 

“They will intercept us in four minutes. They were already ahead of us.”

“Class?” 

“Romulan  warbird. She is reading more than double our mass and she is running weapons hot.” 

“Full power to shields and weapons! As soon as she comes within range, I want her destroyed!” 

The Gorkon sped on, never changing its course or speed as they waited for the Romulans to reach their position.  Klang watched the tactical display closely, ignoring the viewscreen. He always preferred to plot his battle without seeing the color of the ships, the energy of the weapons. He wanted to see his enemy as a simple target on a plain background. 

When the tactical display showed that they were at the maximum range of their weapons, he gave the order. 

“Drop to impulse and fire!” 

Torpedoes and disruptor fire exploded from the Gorkon to slam into the Romulan warbird. The Romulan ship had also dropped to impulse just in time to take the full force of the weapons directly on their prow. Again and again the Klingon ship sent destruction to the warbird. The Romulans had not had a chance to hail them or fire back. They were simply trying to keep their shields intact long enough to respond. 

“Status?” 

“Their foreword shields are at twenty two percent. So far they have not returned fire.” 

“Disable their shields and weapons. Then we can hail them and ask for terms.” 

Klang was pleased with the performance of his ship and crew. He knew that they would be able to handle the warbird as long as they continued to be the aggressor. If they showed any signs of weakness, the Romulans would have them. 

“Their shields are down. Weapons systems are disabled.” 

“Hail them.” 

“No response. Sir! I’m reading an energy buildup in their engines! They are in the process of a core breach!” 

“Get us out of here! Maximum warp!” 

The Gorkon leapt into warp and quickly left the warbird to its destruction. A few seconds later his First Officer approached his chair and reported that the warbird had exploded. 

“Why would they do that General? There is no honor in suicide.” 

“Yes there is. They knew that if we captured them, they would be forced to talk. Instead they chose to keep their secrets and take them to the grave. I may not like or trust the Romulans, but some of them do have a sense of honor.” 

He paused for a moment, rapping his knuckles on the hilt of his disruptor before turning to his FO. 

“Get us home. We must prepare for war!”