Klingon Honor

Posted on 2025, Sat Oct 18th, @ 12:30pm by Vice Admiral Jack Reacher Jr & Sa K’Var Mok’tal
Edited on on 2025, Thu Oct 30th, @ 11:33pm

697 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Episode 2: Pillars of the Theater - USS Vigilance, Star Base 113
Location: Deck 001 — Admiralty Command — Starbase CO Office - Starbase 113
Timeline: Day 7

The morning light filtering through the viewport was pale, softened by the station’s shields, but the atmosphere inside Vice Admiral Reacher’s office was anything but. A carafe of untouched raktajino steamed faintly on the corner table, its sharp scent mixing with the faint metallic tang that seemed to cling to the air after last night’s chaos.

The doors parted with a hiss.

Sa K’Var Mok’tal entered with the stiff-backed gait of a warrior stepping into judgment. His armor was freshly polished, though the faint bruising along his cheek made it clear he hadn’t slept long. He stopped in the center of the room, feet planted wide, and inclined his head only slightly.

“Admiral,” he rumbled, voice carrying the gravel of both fatigue and pride.

Reacher didn’t rise immediately. He regarded the Klingon from behind his desk, posture deliberate, eyes level. The PADDs before him were neatly stacked, though one bore the faint scuff of having been tossed aside in frustration the night before.

Finally, he spoke.
“Sa K’Var. You caused quite a scene. My promenade looked like a holodeck battle program gone wrong. Civilians injured. Starfleet personnel scrambling. And all because you and a grill owner decided to air your honor dispute in public.”

Mok’tal’s nostrils flared, but he kept his voice measured.
“Lurok Brann insulted my House. He accused me of dishonoring the very role I was given here. For a Klingon, such words demand answer. I gave one. But… I admit, it was not the place.”

He squared his shoulders, letting the silence weigh before continuing.
“I stand ready to accept your judgment. But I will not accept being treated as some drunken fool in a bar fight. I am Liaison to Task Force 17. My service and my voice matter to both the Federation and the Empire.”

Reacher leaned back in his chair, hands steepled, eyes narrowing slightly.
“You’re damn right your voice matters. Which is exactly why you can’t be brawling in public like some junior ensign on shore leave. You’re not just representing your House—you’re representing the Empire. And when you pull a stunt like that here, it’s not just your honor that’s on display. It’s the Federation’s ability to trust its Klingon partners.”

Mok’tal bristled, fists clenching, but Reacher’s tone cut sharper.
“You want to answer an insult? Fine. You challenge him. You settle it with witnesses, with rules. You don’t turn my promenade into a battlefield and put civilians in sickbay. That’s not honor, that’s recklessness.”

The silence stretched. Mok’tal’s jaw worked, the tendons in his neck taut as a bowstring. Finally, he gave a slow nod.
“Your point is… heard. Loudly. You have my word—it will not happen again.”

Reacher let the tension soften, just slightly. He stood then, circling the desk, posture less adversarial, more deliberate.
“I don’t want an apology, Sa K’Var. I want discipline. You want to keep this role? Prove you can balance honor with responsibility. Because if there’s a next time, I’ll have no choice but to request the High Council recall you—and we both know what that would mean for your career.”

For the first time, Mok’tal’s mouth twitched in something between a grimace and a smirk.
“You speak like a Klingon, Admiral. Perhaps that is why your words cut deeper than the blade of a bat’leth.”

Reacher allowed himself the faintest grin.
“Good. Then we understand each other. Now get out of my office. And next time someone calls your honor into question, try not to redecorate my station with their blood.”

Mok’tal let out a short, sharp laugh, chest rumbling like distant thunder.
“Very well. Until our next… conversation, Admiral.”

He turned crisply on his heel and strode from the office, leaving behind the lingering weight of a warrior’s promise.

Reacher exhaled, the grin fading back into the steely mask of command. He returned to his desk, already knowing this wouldn’t be the last time Klingon fire and Federation order collided under his watch.

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