#kor dahar master

[jaegermonstrous]

So I've got Thoughts on Worf. Disclaimer, these are all heavily informed by own experiences and background, ymmv. Also disclaimer, I haven't gotten around to watching PIC yet. It's on my list, but I'm not there yet. But anyway.

So, Worf in TNG is pretty much our biggest exposure to the Klingon culture so far, and he's pretty consistent with the other Klingons we see. He's a big and tough warrior guy with the Stoic Warrior Thing going on. He's constantly getting his ass handed to him to show the audience the bad guys of the week are Serious Business. He's a pretty awful father, but we have no reason to believe other Klingons are much better. He's apparently got enough of a soft/personable side that he dates Deanna Troi for a bit [no shade to the actors here, but the logic behind that pairing has never worked for me, or at least the writers never did enough legwork to make it believable to my ace and autistic self]. But mostly, he's a Big Stoic Warrior Man from a culture of Big Stoic Warrior Men.

But Worf in DS9 is much less isolated from other Klingons, and it's here where - to me - he becomes incredibly interesting as an example of someone trying to reconnect with their heritage as an adult, especially someone who's either felt pressured to perform their culture "correctly" to an outsider [Federation] standard, or who's never had significant contact with the huge diversity of their culture and kind of internalized the idea that "this is how you perform my culture correctly" from a very limited amount of sources, and therefore become kind of an asshole about it when people [other Klingons] don't do or be as you expect them to.

From the doylist perspective we can just say "well, the DS9 writers really diversified the Klingons," but I find the watsonian perspective far more interesting; here you have Worf, the first and [so far] only Klingon serving in Starfleet, who was removed from his culture as a young child and raised by Humans [no shade to the Rozhenkos here, I think they did their best to raise Worf with an awareness of his origins]. He's been aware most of his life of being the only Klingon in a room full of Humans and other Federation species, most of whom have Expectations of what Meeting A Real Klingon would be like. So Worf, with his mostly second-hand knowledge of Klingon culture and a huge wall of Expectations surrounding him at every turn, becomes what he thinks of as The Ideal Klingon. He's stoic, he's gruff, he barely ever cracks a smile, and when you put him in the room with a bunch of diverse DS9 Klingons, he comes across as a caricature.

Let's look at some of the DS9 Klingons, and I think you'll see what I mean.

First up - Kaga, the Klingon chef. I personally love Kaga, and I wish we had gotten to see more of him. He's our first real indicator that Klingons in DS9 are Built Different. He's cheerful, he doesn't dress in a warrior's armor, he plays that Klingon accordion thing and sings to his patrons. He's a glimpse of what Klingons outside the military are probably like. I love that the DS9 writers did this, showcasing that Klingons [like so many of the non-Humans we get in DS9] are just people.

Next, we have Kor, the Dahar Master. Again, I adore Kor. In some ways he's a throwback to TOS Klingons, who were conniving, and mocking, and just generally Untrustworthy and would 100% stab you in the back if they thought it would get them what they wanted. But he's also a fantastic example of a DS9 Klingon. Kor is old, and tired, and kind of a drunk, and beginning to lose touch with his abilities and reality. But he's also clever, and cunning, and you can really see the intelligence and the ferocity that made him so formidable to Kirk and the TOS crew back in the day. And he's also charming and kind of a sweetheart, and he genuinely loves Dax like family. He's well-rounded in a way we don't get to see Worf be for a while. And even when we contrast Kor with Kang and Koloth, two other Klingons from the same era who align more with the TNG Stoic Warrior Man stereotype, you can see where their characters are much fuller. They have a history and a familiarity with each other and with Dax that really shines through. I mean, they swore blood oaths with a Trill. Yeah, Dax had to work really hard to be accepted by the Klingons, but once Curzon crossed that line, Kang, Koloth, and Kor were ride or die for Dax.

Third - General Martok. Martok is IMO the best foil to Worf, and sort of an example of who Worf might be someday [again, I haven't seen Worf in PIC yet]. And I really love Martok as someone who's very like Worf in a lot of ways, but also highlights how Worf has really made himself into a caricature of what Being A Klingon is all about. Yeah, Martok is big and tough and stoic, but you also see in the prison camp and later how that's not all of what Martok is. He has faith in and respect for his fellow prisoners in the camp, even the Romulans [who you'd think would be the last people a Klingon would ever trust or respect]. He's a Wife Guy, which I just adore. He's got a sharp sense of humor, he's got trauma from being held as a prisoner of the Dominion for so long, he's friends with Local Twink Julian Bashir.

Martok is also the one who talks Worf down from being such a hardline asshole. When Alexander comes aboard the Rotarran, it's Martok who helps them start to build a better relationship. When it looks like the Worf-Dax wedding is off, it's Martok who encourages Worf to soften his stance [yes, it's also implied Dax is pressured into apologizing to Sirella, but that's another post for another day]. Martok is the example of being a Stoic Warrior Man while also being a rounded person.

This isn't to say Worf doesn't grow on his own, but a lot of his growth happens in DS9 in ways that [to me] read as someone who's really only engaged in their culture in a vacuum or in an abstract way, and now he's hanging out with other Klingons, he's Making Friends with other Klingons, and he has the space [and is actively encouraged by other Klingon characters] to soften his stance and be a little more rounded.

I could also talk about Dax here, and her interactions with Klingon culture and how those affect Worf, but I think I'm done for now.

[defconprime]

Kor, Dahar Master

[daily-klingon]

A musical interlude, as I play The Dirge For Kor, DaHar Master on an ocarina.

Dirge for Kor the Dahar Master

Mi' qul qar'a' 'ej Do' QI' la' QI' DO' Sum, qarI' Do' QI'la'

Sutem pa' rI' tlho' mara' 'e' qor

rI'qa' rI'qa' rI'qa'

DaSo' pa qareH QI' ro'qa'

ro' qa' ro' qa' ro' qa'

See the number of fires burning clearly Good fortune for the mighty Commander

Great luck, I discipline my hails of fortune to you, Commanders Hail appreciation through your silence Our Commander Kor

Hail again Hail again Hail again

You always cloak it thereabouts the Fist of the Commander's hits

The Fist of the Commander The Fist of the Commander The Fist of the Commander

[darktiger57]

Kor, Dahar Master, Trans Ally

[cellularennui]

bang, marry, kill

[goingonanadventuremaybe]

Personal cannon. Star Trek

I’d like to think that Kang, Koloth and Kor all randomly met at some point after TOS. After several rounds of bloodwine, someone finally admitted their embarrassing Kirk story, which led OMG, KIRK, I HATE THAT GUY. And they proceeded to get drunker and drunker, until they all decided to go get cranial ridge reconstructive surgery. They all woke up with splitting headaches and awesome ridges. Kor declared them all forehead bros for life, and as much as Kang has tried to avoid those two, the three keep running into each other in the field of battle until they just got over the fact they were bffs for life.

[mylittleredgirl]

this is the funniest possible factoid from "the sword of kahless," when you think about how kor, dahar master, was introduced in both of his ds9 episodes completely shitfaced in quark's bar. i can see gowron sending him to vulcan as a way of getting rid of/punishing this legendary klingon who doesn't like him, but it's just... so so funny to imagine the vulcans trying to conduct polite diplomacy with him. when gowron recalled all his ambassadors in "the way of the warrior" you know a few vulcan attaches were like 'this is very concerning for the future of the alpha quadrant' while also breathing some very logical sighs of relief.

[thegreenthingslivebeforetheydie]

Jadzia knows where Kor has a scar on his chest, which means Curzon has seen him shirtless

and then he's immediately like "OMG YOU WERE CURZON gimme a kiss"

[wetwareproblem]

"To Kor! The Dahar Master, and a true warrior to the end! (oh and I guess the other six guys on the Ning'tao who also died saving us I guess)" - General Martok, who spent this entire episode bitter at how noble-born officers get all the attention over hard-working common soldiers.

Parentheses added.

[grimminsanity]

Let’s talk about this.

Okay, but like. Can someone explain to me why there’s so much hate for the design change for the Klingons? I personally find them extremely interesting to look at, designed a lot more alien than before, and their armour is utterly stunning? Like, just, wow??? I mean, I get it, they’re not humans painted up to look different like in TOS, nor are they Klingons like Worf in TNG, or the pierced design in the AOS movies, but in my mind, I VERY much picture them to be Klingon like any other Klingons shown in the series., and BOI AM I GONNA TELL YOU WHY I THINK THAT.

(look at these handsome bois, all of them are the best.)

There was often times that people attempted to connect Klingon from TOS to the ones that were shown later with brow ridges because we as humans like continuity and want everything to flow together. However, it was hard to get a concrete answer to why exactly Klingon ended up looking as different as they did compared to their first version.

Some content in the form of the canon novels, however, may have given us an answer!

Keep in mind, this is what I know of the novels and, from my understanding, is considered canon since it was brought up in or hinted at in other media.

In them, it was stated that there was a type of Klingon augment virus that spread through a large portion of the population due to Klingon researchers attempting to create a strong, better Klingon by bio-engineering them.  Through the use of human augment embryos left over from Earth’s eugenics wars that were found in a hi-jacked Klingon bird of prey that had been destroyed in orbit of the Qu’Vat Colony, they began to, essentially, splice it in with great caution. They did this in part because they feared human augments being staffed on ships would overwhelm the empire.

It worked, - how amazing right?!, - creating stronger and more intelligent Klingons, but a lot of the subjects that were used in these experiments began to show more physically human characteristics, from the simple to the blatantly obvious, including personality and loss of, - YOU GUESSED IT, - the well known forehead ridges!

(pictured: Klingon ridges dissolving due to augment DNA being used. also, a good Klingon ‘O’ face.)

One of the test subjects they used, however, had the Levodian flu, and the mixing of the flu with the augment DNA pretty much messed up all the controlled experimentation by the researchers and created an epidemic that nearly killed all the klingons.

Still with me?

Millions within months were infected. The researchers scrambled to attempt to find a cure. First, attempting to capture Doctor Arik Soong led nowhere as, lo and behold, the doctor was in a high security detention facility. Their next attempt was with Doctor Phlox with Phlox being forced to work with Antaak, the main Klingon researcher, to find that cure.

Problem is that the Klingon High Council got really tired of waiting for them to get it finished, and went on to destroy infected colony planets to clear the virus.

Basically, the research team was put under a heavy clock with nothing else to do but to not cure the virus, but stabilize it, because it would apparently take them weeks to try and make the cure. They were successful in stabilizing it early on in the infection, -  after the cranial ridges had dissolved and some minor neural re-ordering had occurred (which caused the personality changes), - and with the help of Admiral Krell, they called off the destruction of the planets! The cure was made with the new amount of time and was passed around, helping solve the problem of the whole dying and mass extinction thing.

Problem is, the cure also caused many Klingons to lose their brow ridges.

(Antaak with his ridges, prior to the cure being administered.)

(Oh! And there they go, - poof! - post cure!)

Thing is, any descendants of these Klingons would pass on the genetic human-like appearance.

This all happened back in 2154!

The Klingons we see in TOS are placed around 2267 are the descendants of those same Klingons!

No one in the Federation really thought much else about it because they simply didn’t know any other Klingons aside from them!

Among the Klingon researchers and some of the population, there was a great worry that these same Klingons would be considered outcasts due to their appearance and mental and personality changes, - cowardice, in example, was one such problem - but, were later on able to hold positions of power, even receiving the title of Dahar Master and getting their statues in the Hall of Heros on Qo’noS -  like, ie. General Kor in TOS which many people are familiar with!

Later on, it was available to some to get the brow ridges cosmetically added back on; however, there may have been more done, medically, that helped reinsert the Klingon head ridges as we see them from TNG and later on.

HOWEVER.

ALL OF THAT SAID.

HERE COMES MY HEADCANON OR UNDERSTANDING OF THE SITUATION FOR WHAT WE SEE IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY.

Some times, Klingons considered these ‘augmented’ Klingons to be lesser then and were not ‘True Klingons’, - and as far as I remember, this is a thing that was talked about in canon as well, - and lo and behold, the idea of purity comes into play!

Forget that it’s a fucking dick move to do, let’s try and keep Klingons pure, guys!

How do we keep Klingons pure?

Marry between the royal houses of the High Council.

OBVIOUSLY.

To us, that may seem weird and a little squicky, but consider that this is something that royal families in our past have done on multiple occasions! It wouldn’t be that far off from thinking that the Klingon royal houses would due the same! Due to this, there have been lots of medical and genetic problems due to families attempting to keep the line pure.

Anywhere from reduced intelligence or personality changes to physical deformities, - larger, oddly shaped heads, cleft lips, blood disorders, - to what else you can think of! 

While it seems that the Klingons in ST:D are still, obviously, intelligent, it comes to our understanding that their physical differences are much different to what we have come to understand to be the norm in a standard Klingon. 

The ridges are more aggressive, pushing out the profile as well as following the line of the neck into their armour, the brows heavier, the noses wider with two nostrils and no dip slope of the nose, no hair, oddly shaped heads due to the size of the ridges, most likely, smaller ears pressed closer to the skull,  more slurring due to possible throat differences, and harsher, grating noises in the throat that we don’t normally hear even in normal Klingons.

Then again, that last one may be more due to a possible dialect change for spoken Klingon in the High Council or a possible House dialect, which, could also be possible. This is, after all, an alien language that we only know one side of. 

I don’t know, my xenolinguistics is a little rusty!

Moving on to their armour, check out this utterly stunning costume design!

The Klingons in ST:D wear more ornamental armour then we’re accustomed to seeing, sharp and almost decorative in design, and possibly breakable, though I wouldn’t advise testing it!

However, these are Klingons, and while they don’t seem practical, you can be damn sure that they’re supposed to be used in combat even if they look like the way do in ST:D.

T’Khumva, - pictured above, - is wearing something a lot more decorative  then what the rest of his people are wearing. A higher collar, sharpened points, aggressive, bold lines in a gold alloy trim, black leathers being the main base point with the gold being the accent, decorated the collar and points of the spikes with what looks to be stones. It seems he’s even wearing a house crest on his abdomen, though that may still be a design choice to go with the chest and collar piece pattern.

Let’s take a look at the others in his ‘court’.

Their style is simpler, with lower collars, with drabber and less prominent colour and designs with no aggressive lines or defining markers of a Klingon house. Less decorative and more practical. I wouldn’t think these Klingons to be servants, but maybe they are, or maybe they’re lesser nobles from lesser houses, who knows! But there is a harsh difference between their armour styles and the way T’Khumva wears his.

They’re from royal houses with those serving under them considered of their house, so obviously they’re going to wear what, to us, would be overly fancy, formal clothes, but with much more practical use to keep you from, you know, dying?

The design and style of them, from their armour to their physical appearance, even to their spoken words, phrases, and language, they are different, but not quite different enough, to not be Klingon.

All of this points to the factor that the houses have been inbreeding within their own genetic lines over a possibly lengthy time, - ST:D happens a decade prior to TOS and the virus happened 113 years in the past, a decent time for gestation and passing of genetic material dependent on Klingon breeding and reproduction standards, - and have slowly pushed further and further out from what is commonly known as the standard Klingon. 

Who knows, maybe they’ve been doing this for centuries?

I understand that people are upset about the design change due to something they have always known being shifted so drastically, I get it, but consider what I said!

What we are seeing, the Klingon High Council and their houses, could quite literally be extremely inbred specimens born from attempts of keeping the blood line pure.

I’m totally open for comments, critique, and further speculation if anyone wants to add more to this or to argue this!

IwlIj jachjaj! Qapla’!

[defconprime]

Dahar Master Kor from Star Trek Timelines, 2022.

[the-firebird69]

Dahar Master Kor Meet Lieutenant Commander Worf

District 9 bugs??

Saucers usually are Predators.

[jedwashere]

A Billion Years Away - Chapter Ten

This Is Never Going To Go Our Way If I’m Gonna Have To Guess What’s On Your Mind

***

So open up my eyes,

Tell me I’m alive,

This is never going to go our way

If I’m gonna have to guess what’s on your mind.

***

Starbase 93 dock.

Lorca.

“Technically this ship has been ready to launch for over two weeks, but between bug tests and a certain lacklustre effort on Starfleet’s part, what with it being an older class of ship with comparatively minimal utility, the ship has not been named or fully commissioned yet…”

Alpha-32 was talking, and Lorca wasn’t listening. Which, he supposed, was better than being driven to distraction by her. Ignoring the wave of conflicting emotions that threatened to bubble up inside him, he looked about as they walked, taking everything in.

The corridors of this ship were bare and utilitarian, the panels lined in computer access consoles, the crew wandering about in the same neat, jacketed uniforms Jallistra’s crew had worn. It was almost heartening, in a way, but somehow, he had trouble thinking of them as ‘his’ crew.

“Captain?”

Lorca blinked, looking at Alpha-32, who was looking at him with that same patient, neutral expression.

“I’m sorry, Commander,” he said without meaning it. “Where were we?”

“I was just informing you of some of the ship’s quirks, sir,” Alpha-32 replied, giving one of those neutered, empty smiles of hers. So unlike Michael. “According to all of my research and data on the subject, it is beneficial for a commanding officer to know their ship.”

That was true, but he didn’t say so. He didn’t really want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she’d said something accurate to the situation.

“Have you considered a name for the ship, yet?” Alpha-32 asked after a moment.

“No,” Lorca said dismissively. In all the ‘excitement’ of meeting Alpha-32, he’d simply forgotten that he had been given that option.

“If I may, sir, I would like to choose the name,” Alpha-32 said, almost hesitant.

Lorca gave her a sidelong glance. “You would?”

“Only if said name meets with your approval, of course, sir,” Alpha-32 clarified. “I find it an intriguing prospect, naming a vessel. Not something asked of a crew often.”

“Hm,” Lorca grunted. He let out a low chuckle. “Just make sure you don’t pick anything inappropriate. I don’t want to fly a ship called ‘daisy’.”

“Noted, sir,” Alpha-32 said. There was an infinitesimal pause before she added: “I will remove ‘Daisy’ from the list of potential names.”

Lorca sighed. He didn’t know whether she was messing with him, or whether she was genuinely that dense. Neither option was particularly appealing.

“Come on,” he said. “There’s probably more to this bucket than you’ve shown me.”

“I was not considering ‘Bucket’ as a name for the ship, sir,” Alpha-32 replied, “but there is more to see.”

God save me from literal-minded robots, Lorca thought, rolling his eyes.

“If you’ll follow me, sir,” Alpha-32 continued, “I will show you to the bridge.”

***

Alpha-32.

“If you’ll follow me, sir, I will show you to the bridge.”

Captain Lorca was not enthusiastic about his command. That was… unexpected. The Exeter-class’s similarity to the 23rd Century Constitution-class alone should have been enough to garner a measure of positivity, if only on the basis of nostalgia. That had been, after all, one of the reasons Commodore Hayne requested this ship (which had only previously been slated for training missions and the occasional bout of diplomatic or scientific busywork).

Still, Alpha-32 thought as she walked. There are other options still available to improve the Captain’s morale, and I have yet to undertake the two emotionally-charged actions that will foster an attachment to the ship and myself.

Asking to name the ship was the first. Alpha-32 was certain that she had picked a choice that was fitting, especially when she added in her complementary choice for her own new designation.

Considering the two designations that she had picked made her pause. If she had activated her emotional subroutines, she might have found a certain hesitation at the thought of the names. Had she chosen correctly? However, despite her probabilistic calculations having been previously less than accurate regarding Captain Lorca’s reactions, she was confident she had made the right decisions.

“You said ‘minimal utility’,” Lorca said after a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It took Alpha-32 three nanoseconds to decide the best response. “The Exeter-class is obviously not a top-of-the-line vessel. You have been on the Enterprise, after all.”

“Yeah,” Lorca said, nodding. “Hell of a ship.” His expression became somewhat irritated. “So what, this one’s the dumpster for has-beens?”

‘Dumpster’ definitely was not a good sign, and though she was not entirely familiar with the phrase ‘has beens’, it, too, had negative connotations. She shook her head.

“The Exeter-class is fitted for extended scientific missions, diplomatic transports…” Lorca’s expression became more derisive, and Alpha-32 immediately knew she had to change tactics. “It is also used in area denial escalation missions, as well as first-response tactical engagement.”

Ah, there it was. A flicker of something else - the expression-reading subroutine she had coded into her system indicated that it was interest. Military-oriented missions seemed to hold his interest more than science or diplomacy. That much was predictable.

“So we’re first response?” Lorca asked after a moment.

“Essentially, Captain,” Alpha-32 said quietly. “Our ship is not powerful enough to stand toe-to-toe against more heavily-armed vessels, but there are a few modifications to her -”

“The fuck,” Lorca interrupted harshly. He was no longer looking at Alpha-32, but instead glaring at a female Klingon walking down the corridor, clad in a gold Starfleet uniform jacket.

Alpha-32 already knew that there was a certain animosity towards Klingons in the 23rd Century, but with a sudden, troubling realisation, she also recalled Lorca’s imprisonment at Klingon hands. Those two facts meant that it made all too much sense that his reaction to seeing a Klingon on his ship would be… unfavourable.

“Sir, this is Lieutenant B’Rena,” she said evenly, putting the barest hint of emphasis on the rank.

“Why is there a Klingon on my ship?!” he hissed, pointing at B’Rena and clearly ignoring Alpha-32’s introduction. His expression was filled with a kind of naked hostility that Alpha-32 had not anticipated. B’Rena squared herself up, clearly feeling challenged.

“And who are you to question my place here?!” she hissed.

“The man who’s gonna kick your ass!” Lorca said hotly.

Alpha-32 held up a hand to forestall the Klingon’s angry retort. It was logical that he would be angry upon seeing B’Rena, but Alpha-32 felt confident she could defuse the tension.

“Captain Lorca is a temporal refugee from the 23rd Century,” she exclaimed to B’Rena. “You will have been briefed on his situation.”

“Ah!” B’Rena said, her demeanour completely changing as she grinned. “The glory days of the Dahar Masters! A time of great heroes - Kor, Koloth, Kang -”

“T’Kuvma and Kol, actually,” Lorca said, his tone bitingly sarcastic.

Alpha-32 ran the names through her history banks, and found information entries for the Battle of the Binary Stars, ‘T’Kuvma the Unforgettable’, and a host of other things that she suspected might cause an officer who had lived through those times some degree of… consternation at a Klingon’s presence.

“T’Kuvma the Unforgettable!” B’Rena said with a grin. “Ah, to be a Klingon warrior in those days! Truly, that would have been glorious!”

“Yes,” Lorca said, his expression cooling into disdain. “I’m sure ramming cloaked ships into vessels under a flag of truce and bombing the shit out of defenceless civilians would have been such a glorious way to spend your time.”

B’Rena’s expression dropped in what might have been confusion on anyone else. “What?”

Lorca scowled. “Excuse me. Lieutenant.”

He pushed straight past her without another word. Alpha-32 gave an approximation of an apologetic look, before following him. B’Rena simply stayed put, and Alpha-32 calculated a 73.7% chance that she was still processing the encounter.

Alpha-32 caught up with the Captain a moment later, just as he entered the turbolift.

“Bridge,” he ordered gruffly. He glowered at Alpha-32. “You never answered my question. What in the hells is that thing doing on my ship?”

Alpha-32 stiffened. “Lieutenant B’Rena is one of the most qualified tactical officers of her class. Having her aboard is an asset.”

“She’s a Klingon,” Lorca hissed.

“The Federation made peace with the Klingons, Captain,” Alpha-32 told him. “It is one of the many things that has changed since your time.”

He said nothing after that, and Alpha-32 wondered for approximately eighteen nanoseconds whether she had gone too far. Changing tack, she imitated an action she had often observed among humans: she took a deep breath. This had the effect of making Captain Lorca look at her in bemusement.

“You breathe, Commander?” he asked.

“On certain occasions, Captain, I have seen humans audibly and deeply breathe in order to diffuse tense situations,” she replied primly.

“‘Diffuse tense…’” He chuckled. “Commander, you’re a damn marvel.”

Success, Alpha-32 thought, allowing herself her logical satisfaction. After all: it was one step in the right direction for dealing with Captain Gabriel Lorca.

***

Lorca.

When the Turbolift opened, Lorca found himself looking around the bridge space with a feeling of mild irritation.

The space itself was more utiliarian than Jallistra’s bridge on the Enterprise had been, which on some levels he could appreciate. It had a familiar layout: centre seat, helm station, Ops station, tactical station, science station… the only real difference between this and the Discovery’s bridge was, ironically, that it was smaller, not to mention a mite more colourful.

In truth, Lorca wasn’t irritated by the bridge. He wasn’t particularly paying attention to the bridge at all. He was still thinking about his encounter in the corridor.

Change, change, more change. He scowled. A damn Klingon serving in the fleet.

He had anticipated change, of course. It was inevitable. Indeed, it was almost welcome: had he somehow emerged into a time where everything looked the same, where everyone wore the same uniform, he was fairly certain he would have gone mad. But all the same…

Damned in change, damned in status quo, damned all the way, he thought, resisting the urge to scowl again.

“What do you think, sir?” Alpha-32 asked from behind him.

Lorca didn’t answer. He noted the door that said ‘ready room’, and almost immediately made a beeline for it, entering without another word to anyone. Alpha-32, thankfully, didn’t follow him.

The ready room wasn’t much different than any boring standard one. Lorca scowled slightly at the chair. He’d always preferred a standing desk - something he’d shared with his other self, he’d realised with some surprise at the time. Still, it was good to have a chair right this second.

“Right,” he said to no one in particular. “Let’s get on with this.”

***

Alpha-32.

Alpha-32 sat at the command chair, checking the readouts. There were more than a few reports awaiting the Captain’s attention, so she forwarded those on. She calculated less than an 11% chance that he would actually read the reports, but 11% was not 1%, as she was sure many of her human colleagues would have said to her. She’d never quite understood that attitude - it was still an unacceptable margin, by any machine’s standards - but as history bore out time and again, organic idiosyncrasies did not stop them from achieving their goals.

As she went through some reports aimed at her, she saw the door to the turbolift open and Lieutenant B’Rena step out.

“Commander,” she said quietly. “A word.”

Alpha-32 stood, and walked over to the Lieutenant:

“What is on your mind, Lieutenant B’Rena?” she asked.

Analysing B’Rena was always a study in contrasts. Like all Klingons she seemed gruff, often unresponsive to traditional human platitudes. She was well built, muscular, lean, perfectly proportioned for security. Her hair was worn in a regulation ponytail. And, unlike many Klingon officers, she had chosen against wearing a Klingon honour sash.

“That man is the Captain?” B’Rena asked her quietly.

“He is,” Alpha-32 confirmed.

B’Rena nodded thoughtfully. “Do you know if it is true?”

“If what is true?” Alpha-32 asked in return.

“What he said about T’Kuvma ramming a ship under a flag of truce,” B’Rena clarified, folding her arms. “Is it true?”

Alpha-32 nodded. “I believe it is.”

Truthfully, that was one of the few things that had remained relatively clear about the Battle of Binary Stars. What information they had about the battle was limited - the number and type of ships (especially the Klingon fleet), the exact casualties - but the destruction of the starship Europa was something that was well known. Alpha-32 had committed a dozen different interpretations of the day’s events to her memory - from dissertations condemning the weak stance of Admiral Anderson to analyses condemning Phillipa Georgiou for not leaving at the first instance. Her own interpretation was something she had yet to decide upon: just one of many things requiring further cogitation.

“I see,” B’Rena said, frowning. “It is… disconcerting to hear one of whom I have thought highly dishonoured in such a way.”

“Do you wish to speak with the Captain about it?” Alpha-32 asked.

“No,” B’Rena said, scowling. “I wish to think. And then I will decide.”

Alpha-32 nodded. “That seems like a wise decision.”

It was a wise decision, but in truth Alpha-32 was only devoting a small amount of processing power to it. There were, after all, other things to think about.

My mission, she thought.

***

Lorca

Starfleet regulations didn’t change much in two centuries. In fact, apart from a few new ones named - presumably - for people that Lorca had never heard of, they seemed entirely static.

Bureaucracy, he thought derisively. Never changes.

Tugging at the red jacket of his uniform, Lorca idly wondered if there were different ship service uniforms, as there had been in his time. He recalled the first time he’d seen the memo about the new uniforms aboard Constitution-class ships - he had been, almost despite himself, intrigued: there was something exciting about the colours. A promise of vibrancy, excitement, adventure. He remembered thinking, as he looked at the plans of one of the various Connies: ‘after the war, a Constitution-class ship. That’s the plan.’

Win the war, get the prize. Best ships in the fleet. Prestige, and the chance to pick his own crew and go out into the great unknown, far from Admiralty breathing down his neck.

Yeah, sure, he thought, snorting. Vibrancy. Excitement. Adventure. A Terran Captain didn’t crave such things, or at least, not in the same way a Federation Captain did. For a Terran, vibrancy was alien blood splattered on a wal, excitement was battle, adventure was conquest.

But I did get a Constitution-class ship, he thought, snorting derisively at the thought of the Exeter class - ‘an older class of ship with comparatively minimal utility’, she had called it.

Could say the same damn thing for me, he scowled.

The door beeped, and Lorca sighed, his thoughts snapping back to the present (bitter irony filled him at that thought).

“Enter,” he said curtly.

Sure enough, in came Alpha-32, a small, empty smile on her face.

“Are you settling in comfortably, sir?” she asked without preamble.

“I prefer standing desks,” he replied gruffly. “But I’ve been taking the time to catch up on my reading, so there’s that at least.”

He brandished the PADD as he spoke, giving her a wry smile.

“That is good,” Alpha-32 said, still smiling. “While you have been acclimating -”

God, this robot doesn’t have a sarcasm module.

“- I have made a selection for the name of the ship.”

“Oh?” Lorca asked blandly.

“I would prefer to show you, sir,” she said. “I ordered it painted onto the hull by the time we get onto a shuttle.”

“Well, isn’t that nice,” he said with a sardonic smirk. He stood. “Can you get me a standing desk for when we get back?”

“Unlikely, but I can put in a request,” Alpha-32 said, nodding once.

Lorca sighed, motioning to the door. “Shall we, Alpha-32?”

She paused, almost hesitating, before looking him in the eye, her smile gone.

“I have also selected a new name for myself, sir,” she said, her expression entirely serious. “It was a difficult choice to make, but I believe it is the right one.”

“Alright,” he said, trying not to sound too disinterested. “What is it?”

“Raphael,” she replied at once.

It took him a moment to process

“Raphael,” he said after a moment, “is a man’s name.”

Her small smile returned, now almost sardonic. “So is Michael.”

He paused at that, before smirking ruefully. “Touché.”

Her smile widened. “Shall we, Captain?”

***

The name was emblazoned on the saucer section in neat black lettering for all the universe to see.

U.S.S. Seraphim NCC-102017

“Interesting name,” Lorca commented from the seat of the shuttle raft.

“I chose it because it is the term for the highest choir of angels,” Alpha-32 - Raphael - said evenly.

“Ah.” He snorted. “‘Gabriel’. ‘Michael’. ‘Raphael’.”

“Exactly,” Raphael said. “Although technically, they were archangels, not necessarily Seraphim. There is some theological uncertainty in that regard.”

He smirked. “The name works, Commander.”

She gave another of her neutral smiles, before returning her attention to the helm.

Lorca considered for a moment whether there was an aspect of emotional manipulation at play, but then dismissed it. After all, Raphael seemed, for the most part, about as emotionally aware as the average brick. Smiling as he comforted himself in that realisation, Lorca leant back, admiring the lines of his ship. It sure looked like a Connie from here, he had to admit.

Captain Lorca of the Starship Seraphim, he thought, smiling. Now that was something he could get used to.

***

A:N: So, this is the last complete chapter I have at present (and the one posted last on AO3). I am still working, slowly, on this work, but my fan fiction work almost always takes a backseat to my original work (which you can see elsewhere on tumblr at jteroracleverse, or usually reblogged here). I’ll keep at it slowly, though.

[weerd1]

Star Trek DS9 Rewatch Log, Stardate 1908.09: Missions Reviewed, “The Sword of Kahless” and “Our Man Bashir.”

Dahar Master Kor returns to visit his old friend Dax on DS9 and she introduces him to an awestruck Worf. While those two stay up drinking into the night, Kor reveals that he believes he has found the location of the legendary sword of Kahless the Unforgettable, a relic that could unite the Empire and stop the hostility Gowron’s paranoia has brought.

 Kor, Worf, and Dax venture into the Gamma Quadrant where an ancient species that plundered the Klingons millennia before called the “Hur’q” have supposedly left the bat’leth. Sure enough they find it, but it turns out Kor has gotten drunk and told his story in one too many bars too loudly, and the shamed House of Duras comes after them, thinking they will take the sword and use it to take over the Empire. The scramble signals to Dax and gang can’t beam out, so a running escape through the planet’s caves to the surface begins. Along the way, Worf and Kor become more and more hostile with one another as the prospect of having the sword begins to make them both think that maybe THEY should be the ones to keep the sword. 

When the Duras gang catches up, there’s a last fight which ends with Worf and Kor turning on one another. Dax has had enough and stuns them both, then gets a surviving enemy to drop the scramble. Once beamed back to the Runabout, they realize that if the idea of the sword corrupted them, the Empire can’t be ready for it.  They beam it into space where it will wait a thousand more years to be found.

Always a joy to see John Colicos back as Kor, and much fun to see Worf fanboying (in a positive way) over Kor. There’s a lot of background you need to make this episode work, reaching all the way back to TOS with the identity of Kahless and Kor (Kirk and Organia get name dropped here), the actions between House Duras and Worf’s family (the TNG Klingon Saga), and of course Gowron’s actions earlier this season in DS9. I always say Ron D. Moore as producer learned how to do his 2003 Battlestar Galactica by doing the arcs on DS9, but he learned that as a writer on TNG with the series of Klingon episodes spread from about season 3 to season 7 on that show.  This fits nicely.  This is also quite the homage to “Treasure of the Sierra Madre” as men who were allied get their minds twisted by the prospect of their treasure.  Dax being unaffected by the allure of the sword and getting fed up is quite satisfying at the end.  

In “Our Man Bashir,” Garak jumps into one of Julian’s holosuite programs which is set an a fanciful version of the 1960s where Bashir is a secret agent on Her Majesty’s secret service. Garak is amused at the spy games, but the stakes get higher when a transporter accident actually integrates the patters of Dax, Kira, O’Brien, Worf, and Sisko into the program.

 They begin to take on characters throughout the story. Commander Eddington and Odo warn them that until they can get DS9’s computers clear of the sheer amounts of data that make up the five crew members brain patterns, they can’t halt the program, but if anyone dies in the game, they will be actually erased. Eddington get Rom to help him since he’s the engineer for the holosuite and they attempt to direct the patterns into the Defiant’s transporter. In the holosuite an adventure is playing out where a KGB agent (Kira) joins Bashir, Julian Bashir in trying to find a kidnapped scientist named “Honey Bare” (Dax) while being pursued by an assassin named Falcon (O’Brien) through a rich gambler’s hideaway (Worf) to find an evil mastermind named Doctor Noah (Sisko).

 In the end, to delay having to kill anyone in the game Bashir gives in allowing Doctor Noah’s evil plan to work. That gives them all just enough time for Eddington and Rom to activate their fix and save the crew.

I’ve often wondered why the hell Starfleet still allowed holodecks when at least once a year they put the primary crew in mortal danger.  At least here the problem was actually external forcing its way into Bashir’s program. Obviously a lot of James Bond references here, enough that the production got a warning from MGM after the episode aired. This is a fun episode, with standout moments like Garak’s running commentary as a “real” intelligence agent on the ridiculous nature of Bashir’s role and the plot, Avery Brooks hamming to Shatnerian level as the supervillain explaining his plot, and of course the terrible Russian accent Nana Visitor has to deliver as her KGB character.  All and all much fun, and though I’m not usually a big Holo-Danger fan, this one is worth it’s run time.

NEXT VOYAGE: Sisko is called back to Earth after the Founder’s strike at Humanity’s “Homefront.” But are they the biggest threat?

[heroesandvillainsofmbti]

ISTJ: Martok, “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine”

ISTJ – the Inspector, the Trustee, the Steward

When typing the Vulcans of The Original Series, I observed that most of them are ISTJs. The orderliness, logic, and composure commonly associated with the type just suits them. Turns out our two favorite Klingons are also Si-doms, and Worf and Martok find ways to tear apart their types’ expectations with a fury.

Dominant Function: (Si) Introverted Sensing, “The Study”

Martok has worked long and hard to get where he is. He comes from a lower-class, “commoner” background, and never forgets it. He was the first in his family to apply for officer training, but he was rejected thanks to a negative vote from the legendary Kor, who believed that those without noble blood should not be allowed in the ranks of officers. Martok holds this against Kor for the rest of his life, and refuses to speak to the man when he joins his crew for one last mission.

Martok had to work as a common day laborer due to his rejection, but he never gave up his original plan to become an officer. He served as an orderly on a Klingon warship and finally earned a field commission from his General when they fought invading Romulans. Sadly, Martok’s father had died by the time he accomplished this, and Martok carried that sore spot with him as well, nursing his grudge against Kor.

Over the years, Martok became an experienced and skilled strategist. He rose through the ranks and attained the position of right-hand man to the Chancellor himself, Gowron. He was briefly replaced by a Changeling, and spent at least a year in a Dominion internment camp.

During this imprisonment, Martok loses an eye in one of his daily sparring matches with the Jem’Hadar. He also loses his edge, and worries that he’ll never set foot on a Klingon ship again. Once he’s free, he feels that his captivity has dulled his senses.

It takes a while for Martok to get his footing and his old instincts back. He decides not to replace his missing eye, keeping the scar as a badge of honor, to remember what the Jem’Hadar did to him. He also keeps his fear—very un-Klingon of him—believing that due to his past experiences, only he truly understands and appreciates the danger that the Jem’Hadar represent.

He takes command of an old Bird-of-Prey called the Rotarran, whose crew is beat up and defeated, and can’t shake off his own malaise. He’s looping a bit, afraid of facing his fears by encountering the Jem’Hadar again. It takes a butt-kicking from Worf and a few successful battles under his belt for Martok to feel like his old warrior self again.

Even as Martok gains status in the Klingon Defense Force during the war, he keeps the Rotarran as his flagship based on the memorable victories he won with it and its crew.

At the end of the war, Worf deposes the reckless Gowron and installs Martok as the new Chancellor, based on his years of experience and service. Martok balks at taking the mantle, as he’s never forgotten the humble roots he came from. He’s a common Klingon warrior. To Worf, that makes him the perfect leader.

Auxiliary Function: (Te) Extraverted Thinking, “The Workshop”

When Martok first takes command of the Rotarran, he’s looping, and out of touch with his Te. He uses it ineffectively and bluntly, much like someone in an inferior Te-grip, demanding compliance with unclear orders, bullying and berating his crew, and threatening them with charges of treason if they question him. He’s deeply disappointed at the poor service record of the ship and crew, as they have grown incapable and defeated after months of losing battles.

Worf challenges Martok’s command competency, and the two of them duel on the bridge. Worf almost bests him, but he sees the fire return in Martok, and he lets him win. Now Martok feels like a commander again, and he pulls the crew together for a victorious fight.

Martok’s still a strict disciplinarian, though. He throws a subordinate off the upper level of the Promenade just to teach him a lesson, and almost gets locked up in the station’s brig for it. Worf argues to Odo and Sisko that the General is perfectly within keeping of Klingon disciplinary structures, and they let him off with a warning.

When Nog stands up to Martok and his unruly men, Martok marvels in the little Ferengi’s show of confidence, and gives him respect—and space—from thereon.

While still a traditional Klingon, Martok isn’t as caught up in the formality of ritual like the ISFJ Worf. They’re both Si-dom, but with different Extraverted Judging functions in the auxiliary position. Martok lets Worf go through the motions of the chants and songs as the Rotarran launches, but he really just wants to get on with the job.

Once Martok becomes the liaison between the Klingon forces and Starfleet on DS9, he finds to his dismay that his job involves a lot of paperwork. How’s that for a non-stereotypical ISTJ? Martok prefers direct action, not busywork behind a desk.

When they make it to Cardassia in the final push against the Dominion, Martok’s Starfleet and Romulan comrades stand dismayed at the destruction. Martok, however, wishes to celebrate the victory with bloodwine. This is satisfaction for a job well done.

Tertiary Function: (Fi) Introverted Feeling, “The Deep Well”

Martok discovers a special bond with Worf during their imprisonment. It’s a moment Worf describes as tova’dok, a kind of spark of understanding between warriors. Martok coaches Worf to keep fighting during their imprisonment, and later appoints him his first officer on the Rotarran based on the trust they’ve built.

Eventually, Martok adopts Worf into his house, letting him take the name of Martok and regain his social standing in the Empire.

Martok has a fiery relationship with his wife Sirella, a majestic, formidable ESTJ. No one can quite understand how they work, not even Martok himself. He only knows that as tough a warrior as he tries to be, his honor leaves him lonely without someone to share his victories with.

Martok won’t let go of his grudge against Kor, and initially refuses to explain his emotional reaction to the Dahar Master’s presence on his ship. It is a matter of personal honor (whereas Worf, the Fe-user, is typically concerned with the honor that others will see). Even seeing Kor lose his honor as his mind deteriorates doesn’t satisfy him. After Kor goes out in a blaze of glory, Martok salutes his victory, but will not sing along with the other warriors in his honor.

Inferior Function: (Ne) Extraverted Intuition, “The Hiking Trails”

As a young warrior, Martok hoped for a better position in life than what he was born into, and fought to attain the rank of officer, which by all past tradition should have been out of his reach.

When he returns to command after his imprisonment, Martok has developed fearful and paranoid anxieties about the enemy he faces. Overcautious, he repeatedly orders the ship away from possible confrontation, citing various negative outcomes if they try to engage the Jem’Hadar. He grows pessimistic about the possibility of success, deciding without evidence that there can be no survivors on the ship they’ve come to find. He’s distrustful of his crew, and most of all himself.

To be a warrior again, he has to embrace the unknown possibilities of striking out into battle. Afterwards, he offers Worf a new beginning by becoming his brother.

When he’s being tended to by Doctor Bashir for battle training injuries, he gets fed up with Bashir’s worry. An inch or two this way or that, and Martok could have lost another eye or severed an artery. The old Klingon grumbles: “The human fascination with what might have been grows tiresome. The artery is not severed, and I am not dead.”

Martok is very much alive, despite everything, at the end of the saga. In fact, he’s wearing the robes of Chancellor of the Klingon Empire. It was not an outcome he expected, but it is a chance for the Empire to renew itself after generations of corruption.