The warship settled into the spacedock over Quos'Nos, and the captain contacted the surface. Rather than the usual fleet contact, he was surprised to see the distinctive forms of the Duras sisters when he brought up the viewscreen. "Captain, we have heard rumors of your successes over the past two years. Very extraordinary. You do your family much honor. Before we take your report, however, is our cousin available? We have news for him."

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Kri'Stak was called to the bridge, reporting with haste. He and the captain had their issues - this was normal aboard a Klingon vessel. Lack of conflict usually meant someone didn't have enough pride in their decisions to stand up for their performance. But he gave the captain no reason to doubt his honor, and his performance record was distinguished for such a young officer. More importantly, he had little doubt he had the loyalty of much of the crew.

As soon as he saw his family on the viewscreen, he knew none of it had mattered. The Captain was in the pocket of Duras and the sisters. All their time together meant nothing. He shot the man a glare. The fact that Kouros did not challenge the look told him everything he needed to know.

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"Little Cousin Kri'Stak." spoke B'etor in her best mock-honoring tone, trying to push his buttons and get away with diminishing him before the crew."

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"I can see your hearts, go put some clothes on." His voice never wavered.

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Lursa broke first, looking like she would spit poison if she could. Whatever she was about to say was choked off when her sister steadied her with a hand on her shoulder, but it was too late, the bridge had seen the reaction. "Cousin." she snarled at last. "We have been told of your record on board the Crossed Swords. We simply wished to be the first to congratulate you on the honor the council has agreed to bestow upon you for your valor and leadership."

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"You should not have bothered. It is honor enough to serve, and I would hate to keep you from your important work. Thirsty warriors can only wait so long for their drinks to be served."

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B'etor's face soured, but she kept her hand on her sister's shoulder. Never civil, the relationship between them had gotten far worse shortly before Kri'Stak's last posting when he had killed Lursa's boyfriend for challenging his honor, not believing a boy raised by monks could know anything of the ways of a Bat'leth. He'd been a waste of space, but strong and easily manipulated - Lursa had never forgiven the loss of the pawn, but even with her position, could do little. The duel was honorable. "Regardless, you've been chosen for a great honor. Starfleet has proposed an officer exchange program... your position as first mate will be held by one of Starfleet's finest for two weeks, and you will get to show Starfleet the meaning of Klingon pride and honor on one of their vessels. Don't starve to death on human food, I've heard its very weak stuff."

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"Your Klingon honor gives you insight into such things." He paused. Starfleet? Even two weeks was going to be an eternity. "I will serve as the council asks."

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"Of course you will. Good luck."

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Two days later, Kri'Stak was aboard a Klingon shuttle bound for one of Starfleet's galaxy-class ships. Despite the efforts of the sisters, and no doubt, their brother, it had every sign of being a good posting.
Still a day out, he received a transmission. The Crossed Swords had been blown up with all hands aboard. Initial investigation had revealed indications of sabotage, and a single shuttle had left before the explosion. It was thought to be heading for Romulan space. Because of the likelihood it was this Starfleet officer, his assignment had been changed - he was being re-routed to a border patrol ship where he would be near to where the apparent spy had been sent from, and was to remain there for the duration of the investigation. It might be a very, very long time.

The shuttle shook with the roar of a Klingon warrior. Someone would die for this. Possibly very soon.

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