A father's worst fear
Location: I.K.S. baH lI batlh
K'm'bal approached the door to the Captain's office and pounded his fist on the door to announce himself. This was a conversation that no father wanted to have... let alone a Klingon father. In his left hand he carried a datapad, the source of his disquiet. His normally collected face was stained by now dry tears. His once almost unassailable calm, hanging on by a thread... already he had sent a crewman to the surgeon for the barest suggestion that he was unfit to serve as first officer. The boy didn't know why he was distracted, but he had learned not to try him idly.
The mug of raktajino hit the desk again and he read through battle reports from the front lines. He wanted to be there, but he had to stop by to meet someone at the Orion Trade Post. Not where he wanted to be, but the informant knew that it would be worth it. Muk'da heard the pounding at his door and he turned off his computer screen, "What is it?"
The door opened but K'm'bal didn't enter yet. "Captain, I... a moment of your time?" His voice was rough and hoarse, it was clear that he was trying to hide a great pain. "I received a message from my family early this morning." He held the datapad out, unable to speak the words himself.
I must tell you, though it pains me greatly, that our son has been killed. Your sister gave him and his fellow students a tour of her ship and when they were shuttling back down to Qo'nos the shuttle exploded. I know your duty prevents you from returning home, Mia and I will handle what we can... House Chang has offered support to us in this time.
Our son shall walk with the prophets, but help him to reach Sto'vo'kor for he so wanted to be a warrior, like his father.
Until you return, your loving wife - Nola
Muk'da read the letter. He stood up from his chair, "My friend. I am sure Kahless will welcome your son into Sto'vo'kor with open arms. He had the heart of a warrior!" He moved around his desk, "I will have cook prepare a special feast in your son's honor. We will celebrate his entrance in Sto'vo'kor."
K'm'bal nodded. "I shall win glory in his name to assure his entry. The halls of Gre'thor will not claim my son."
Muk'da took his First Officer's hand and clasped it tightly in front of their faces, "I will make sure that his name is not forgotten. I shall order the chef to open a barrel of bloodwine and prepare the best targ for feast."