STARSHIP U.S.S. ENTERPRISE
FEDERATION SPACE

The beam deposited them in another, similar but smaller, transporter room. This one had a single operator and an officer wearing a red tunic with a ship's services insignia. By the single gold braids on the man's cuffs, Kell could tell that he was a lieutenant. For a long moment the Earther just stared at them. Then he spoke.

"Welcome to the U.S.S. Enterprise. I'm your section chief or squad leader, Lieutenant Sam Fuller. I've reviewed your records. You all have excelled in your training -- otherwise you wouldn't be serving on this ship under Captain James T. Kirk. Now before we go any further, I have a simple question for you: How many old Starfleet security officers does it take to fire a phaser?"

The Klingon heard the light titter of Earther laughter around him from the other recruits, but he noted that Sam Fuller didn't smile. He merely looked at them expectantly.

"Anyone?" Fuller asked when the group quieted down.

Finally, a very earnest-looking Earther female next to him spoke up. "Just one, sir. Starfleet security officers of any age do not require assistance for such a simple task."

Fuller considered her for a moment, then shook his head. "No, that's not it, but I will spare you further guessing. It's a trick question, because -- and listen very carefully -- there are no old Starfleet security officers."

More laughter from the group. Kell was so surprised that he nearly joined them -- there was a very similar Klingon proverb about old warriors.

"I'm glad you're amused, but the truth is that security has the highest mortality rate in the service -- higher even than careless starship captains. Of course, there are compensations. We also have the lowest pay." Then, for the first time, Sam Fuller smiled.

"You remember the words of the great Zefram Cochrane, Starfleet's mission is 'to boldly go where no man has gone before.' Well, going boldly is a risky business. It is the business of Starfleet and the Federation that we serve. Getting a whole bunch of different races together is risky. Meeting new races is risky. And protecting the ideals of the Federation and the lives of its members is risky. But as our captain says, risk is our business. It is the business of Starfleet and the Federation we serve. No branch of the service takes greater risks or pays a higher price than Starfleet security. And, as far as I'm concerned, there is no higher calling in Starfleet or the Federation. Now, does that make any of you nervous?" Sam asked.

"No, sir," the Klingon and the group replied in unison.

"Well, it should, but here in security we are not very high on common sense, so you'll fit right in. Now, as your first duty officer, it is my duty to swear you in as members of Starfleet and the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Before I do, I'll offer you one last opportunity to step back on the transporter pad and go back to Earth, your colony, your space station, or wherever it is that you call home. You can take your expensive Starfleet training and find any number of nice safe posts in the private sector. Bear in mind there is no shame in doing so; in fact, you would be showing remarkable intelligence and foresight." He paused for a moment, looking over the group. "Anyone?"

Kell looked around. None of the recruits motioned to go. That surprised him in a race renowned for its cowardice. He could only surmise that there were dire consequences for the ones that actually tried. No doubt they and their families would suffer.

"Since it looks like you are all going to stay, I will ask you to repeat after me: I solemnly swear to uphold the regulations of Starfleet Command as well as the laws of the United Federation of Planets, to become ambassadors of peace and goodwill, to represent the highest ideals of peace and brotherhood, to protect and serve the Federation and its member worlds, to serve the interests of peace, to respect the Prime Directive, and to offer aid to any and all beings that request it."

The Klingon repeated the oath with the group, though it burned his blood to do so. For him, taking an oath falsely -- even an Earther oath -- was a compromise of his honor that he shuddered to make. As Fuller spoke, Kell hated the weak and treacherous Earthers even more for forcing him and the Klingon Empire into this position.

When the oath was finished, he stood in silence with the others.

"Congratulations and welcome aboard," Fuller said.

At that moment, the doors to the transporter room opened and two Earthers stepped in. One was wearing a red tunic and the other command gold. Kell recognized that one immediately: it was Captain James T. Kirk. A dozen thoughts ran through the Klingon's head at once -- he had heard many tales in his Klingon Intelligence training of Kirk's treachery, his cowardice, his deceit -- but those thoughts were interrupted when Fuller snapped to attention himself and said, "Captain on deck."

The Earther was smaller than Kell had expected, only slightly taller than Kell himself.

Kirk casually put a hand on Fuller's shoulder. "At ease, Sam," he said. Kell had been surprised when his fellow recruit, Luis Benitez, had done the same to him. Such contact was unusual for Klingons, unless it was a prelude to a fight. And for a captain of a ship to behave so familiarly with someone so far below him in rank was unthinkable.

"Recruits, I present Captain James T. Kirk and Security Chief Giotto," Fuller said.

"Scared any of them off, Sam?" Kirk said with what Kell recognized as humor in his voice.

"Not yet, Captain, but I will keep at it," Sam said.

"I'm sure you will," Kirk replied. Then he turned to the recruits. "Welcome to the Enterprise. I look forward to getting to know each of you in turn. For now, I'll trust you to Lieutenant Fuller's capable hands."

Then, with a nod, the captain left the room with Giotto next to him.

"At ease," Fuller said, and the Klingon allowed himself to relax for the first time, or at least to give the appearance of relaxing. His heart was pounding in his chest from his close encounter with Captain James T. Kirk. Though he knew that all of the tales about Kirk could not be true, he was just as certain that he had just been in the presence of one of the greatest enemies of the Klingon Empire.

"Now, for the next six weeks of your orientation, as your section chief I will be responsible for each of you. You will train together, eat together, and serve together. I will not accept anything less than your best at all times, and I expect you to never do anything that will embarrass your captain, this ship, or its history."

With that Fuller took the group on a short tour of the vessel, stopping first at engineering, which the Klingon was amazed that personnel not directly responsible for ship's systems were still allowed to see. No doubt the lax security was an example of the bizarre combination of arrogance and weakness that defined Earthers as he understood them.

Then they saw the enormous hangar bay and something called an arboretum -- a strange place where the Earthers kept plants, intentionally. There was also a large room the Earthers allocated to what they called recreation.

Then, in the upper section of the ship, he saw sickbay, where injured and sick Earthers convalesced in weakness instead of simply dying with honor as Klingons did.

"We can't see the bridge," Fuller said. Finally, the Klingon thought, the Earthers show some sense.

"The bridge is restricted to officers on duty," Fuller continued. "But I'll see that each of you spends at least one shift there in the next few weeks."

Impossible, Kell thought. Giving access to the ship's core systems and personnel to new recruits -- one of whom is a Klingon living under their noses. The Federation will deserve their fate when they fall to the Empire.

Still, Kell was amazed at the scale of the ship. He had toured a decommissioned Klingon cruiser and had seen nothing near the same amount of open space. Granted, the Klingon ship was about three-quarters the length of the starship and, thus, was half the internal volume -- all while maintaining a larger crew.

On the Federation vessel, everything he saw, from crew's quarters, to storage areas, to corridors, to science labs -- which would never have had such a prominent place on a Klingon vessel -- was much larger than anything he had seen on a Klingon warship. Of course, he reminded himself, the Federation maintained that their vessels were not warships, but exploratory vessels.

That notion, he knew, was at the heart of the Federation's greatest deception: It called its own gross imperialism exploration. Meanwhile, every year the Federation annexed world after world, becoming a greater and greater threat to the Klingon Empire. Still, they seemed to take great care to maintain the deception of scientific study and exploration -- even among only themselves, going so far as to allocating large areas to sensors and scientific equipment.

Finally, the tour was ended and Fuller turned to the recruits. "You'll have plenty of time to further explore the ship in the next few weeks. Since you have your room assignments, your first test of your knowledge of the Enterprise will be to find your cabin. Dismissed."

"What room are you in?" Luis Benitez asked the Klingon.

Before he could answer, another voice called out, "Jon Anderson." Kell had been trained to respond immediately to his Earther name and turned to see a red-shirted officer approach him. "I need to speak to you, Anderson," the man said.

"I'll catch up with you later," Benitez said, turning away.

Up close he saw that the man was a security officer, tall with yellow-colored hair -- blond, the Earthers called it, though the Klingon people didn't have an equivalent shade or even a word for it.

The Earther officer smiled at him. "I'm Ethan Matthews, I need a moment with you," he said, leading Kell away from the others.

The Klingon barely had time to wonder if he had been found out when the Earther turned to him, instantly serious and said, "betleH 'etlh," or The Blade of the Bat'leth.

Kell was so surprised to hear his native language spoken on this Federation ship that he started in surprise. The incongruity of hearing it spoken by an Earther -- no, not an Earther, he corrected himself. A Klingon and an Infiltrator like me.

We are betleH 'etlh. And like that honored blade we will weaken our foe with a thousand cuts before the point of the weapon, the great Klingon fleet, delivers the killing blow.

The Infiltrator who now called himself Matthews noted the recognition on the Klingon's face. "Yes, we share the same warrior blood behind these soft and hated faces," Matthews said in Klingon. "Come with me," he said, leading Matthews into an empty cargo room.

"I did not know there would be another on board already. Are there still more?" Kell asked, glad for the opportunity to speak Klingon.

"We must continue in their weakling English," Matthews said in the Earther tongue, nearly spitting out the word. "I could not resist when I saw you, but they are not as stupid as they look and we do not want to raise questions. It is only us, brother. But I do not think we will need any assistance to fulfill our mission."

"You have our orders?" the Klingon asked, then he looked around nervously. "Is it safe to speak openly here?"

Matthews grinned a surprisingly human-looking grin. "They may not be as stupid as they look but they are just as soft and careless as they seem. There is no surveillance of the crew."

Kell could not contain his surprise. "I had heard that might be true in our training, but I thought perhaps just officers escaped..."

"It is true for all. The Earthers seem determined to aid in their own destruction," Matthews said.

"Our orders then?" the Klingon asked.

"Our orders are clear and the task will be painfully simple: We are to kill Captain James T. Kirk."

"But his personal guards?" Kell asked.

"We are his personal guards," replied Matthews. "I have been here two months and I already have the next landing-party rotation with the captain."

"I will be pleased to hear it is done, but I regret that I will not be able to share in the glory of that deed," the Klingon said.

Matthews smiled. "There will be many glorious opportunities for both of us, do no worry. And it is pitifully easy to earn their trust. For now, just go to your room and complete your training. We will speak again."

Kell nodded and followed Matthews out the door. They entered the corridor a few steps behind two technicians in red overalls. Matthew laughed and put a hand on the Klingon's shoulder.

"I'll see you later," Matthews said with a perfect imitation of Earther good humor in his voice.

Kell did his best to mimic the tone. "Yes, later," he said, and headed for the turbolift.

The Klingon entered his quarters and saw that no one else was inside, though there was a Starfleet duffel bag on one of the room's two beds. Once again, Kell marveled at the size of the space given to two of the newest and lowest-ranking crew members on the ship. He wondered how many officers on Klingon vessels could boast accommodations like this. Then he reminded himself that it was just this kind of excess that made the Federation cowards as soft as they were.

Kell put his duffel bag on the empty bed and unpacked the "personal items" given to him by Klingon command. There were civilian clothes that he assumed had been owned by the real Jon Anderson. These, he placed in a dresser he found for storage.

On a shelf behind his bed, he placed Anderson's few books, a collection which included a copy of a title that the Klingon had already read: The Starfleet Survival Guide. Klingon Intelligence had secured a copy. Incredibly, no raid or covert operation was required to acquire it. The remarkably careless humans sold the book to the public. Any Klingon trader was able to simply purchase it in virtually any Federation world or base.

On top of the dresser, Kell placed photographs of Jon Anderson's mother, an older brother, and a father, now deceased.

Anderson's family actually closely mimicked the Klingon's own family, a mother, an older brother, and a father, who was dead. The similarity was not accidental; it kept him from betraying himself with a careless mention of his family.

But as far as Kell was concerned, the differences between his family and Jon Anderson's were far greater than the similarities. While Anderson's father and brother were merchant officers on cargo ships, his own father and brother were warriors who served with honor in the Klingon Defense Force. And his father had not died in a simple accident like Anderson's -- the Klingon's father had died fighting Starfleet cowards twenty-five years before in the Battle of Donatu V.

A high-pitched three-note whistle sounded in the room and a female voice came over the intercom. "Ensign Jon Anderson to the briefing room. Captain Kirk is waiting for you." The message repeated one time and went silent.

Kell's blood went cold. In an instant, he saw his dreams of revenge disappear. In that instant he knew the Starfleet cowards were not as stupid as they looked. How could they be? the Klingon joke went.

Perhaps there was surveillance of the crew, and he and the Infiltrator called Matthews had betrayed themselves in their brief discussion.

There was nothing to be done now, he realized, but accept his fate with honor. And perhaps before he died he would be able to strike a blow for the Empire, as he had no doubt that his father or brother would do.

The Klingon straightened his back and exited the room. He took the turbolift to the briefing room's level and found it with minimum difficulty. He paused for a moment outside the door. Captain Kirk was inside and with him -- Kell was sure -- were a group of guards. Perhaps Matthews was there already, in custody. From what he had heard about Kirk, the Klingon was sure that the captain would perform his own interrogations. So be it, he thought. Perhaps the Earther will get careless and give me an opportunity to fulfill my mission.

Steeling himself, Kell stepped in front of the door, which opened automatically. Without looking, he stepped inside. What he saw in the room surprised him more than a room full of wild targs. Kirk was in the room, and he appeared to be alone. Most astonishing, he was facing away from the door, studying a data padd.

For a moment, the surprise of seeing the captain with his back to a door outweighed all other thoughts. How foolish and trusting the Earthers were. No Klingon commander would turn his back on a door, even if only his crew was on the other side -- especially if his crew was on the other side.

The captain gave him a quick glance and said, "One moment, crewman," then went back to his padd.

That gave the Klingon a moment to wonder where the guards and interrogation devices were. And why was the captain so relaxed? How often did he learned that a member of his crew was a Klingon agent?

Kell remembered that the recruit called Benitez had said the captain had used his bare hands to kill a brain-devouring creature that had killed a number of security officers. Perhaps, in his arrogance, Kirk thought he was invulnerable. That thought reminded the Klingon that Kirk was in fact vulnerable, right now. He had his back to Kell. Was it a trick? Was the captain baiting him? Goading him? Showing his contempt for the Empire by dismissing him as a threat?

But perhaps the Klingon could land a blow; he had studied enough Earther anatomy during his training to know that a single, strong blow to the back of the neck could be fatal. But that would mean striking him in the back. Many Klingons would not hesitate, he knew. But his father had been a follower of Kahless the Unforgettable and his mother had instilled Kahless's teachings into her two sons. "A battle should be face-to-face. Anything less is an insult to a Klingon's own honor."

That thought kept him from seizing his chance, and then as quickly as it came the chance was gone. The captain put down the padd and turned to face him. "Come in, crewman," Kirk said, gesturing to a seat across from his own. "Have a seat."

When the Klingon hesitated, Kirk said, "That's an order," and smiled.

He's toying with me, Kell thought as he took the offered seat. He set his face, determined not to give the Earther the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

"I think you have set a record," Kirk said.

"Sir?" the Klingon replied, maintaining the charade.

"I don't think that any member of this crew has managed to disrupt the ship's business to the extent you have after only half an hour on board," Kirk said evenly.

"I do not know what you mean," Kell said. It was a lie, but a lie that was part of his training. Still, he felt a pang at the dishonesty; after all, Kahless had once fought his brother for twelve days because his brother had lied and brought dishonor to his family.

"But to be fair," Kirk said, "the disruption began before you even arrived."

So that was it. Kirk and Starfleet had known about him and the Infiltrator program before he had even arrived. He knew he had very little time now. He and Kirk were still alone. There was a chance to kill him in an honest and honorable single combat -- if such a fight was possible with an Earther. It was what his father or brother would do, he knew.

Then again, his father and brother had brought honor to his family by becoming warriors, while he had been rejected by the Klingon Defense Force and had been assigned to intelligence work. Until he had the opportunity to volunteer for the Infiltrator program, he had thought he would languish in his encryption/decryption post for the rest of his life without ever doing anything to avenge his father or join his brother in serving the Empire in its battle against its enemies.

"Two weeks ago, to be exact. That was when the disruption began," Kirk said.

Kell noted again that he was slightly shorter and more slender than the captain. His relatively small size was one of the things that kept him from being a warrior. For years he had cursed his body. But his size had made him a candidate for the Infiltrator program. And now he was face-to-face with Kirk and in a position to rid the Empire of its hated foe -- something no proper warrior had been able to do so far.

Perhaps Kirk was bigger and had some hidden advantages, but in a moment he would know what it was like to face someone with a Klingon warrior's blood. Despite the coming battle, Kirk kept his tone neutral, perhaps even friendly. "Does the name Gabrielle Anderson have any meaning to you?" he asked.

"What?" the Klingon asked, dumfounded for a moment.

"Gabrielle Anderson, you do know her," Kirk said.

"Why, she's... she's..." Kell said, trying to figure out Kirk's game.

"She's your mother," Kirk finished for him.

"I don't--" the Klingon began, but Kirk cut him off.

"I know her name because I have received no less than twenty messages from her in the last two weeks. It seems you have not contacted her in four months and she is convinced that Starfleet has kidnapped her son."

"I don't understand," Kell said. Then he did: The real Jon Anderson's mother was contacting the captain asking about her son.

"Then I will make it very clear for you. You have not written to your mother in four months. As a result she's been sending regular subspace messages to me urging me to make sure you contact her when you arrive. I make it a rule not to get involved in my crew's family situations. However, in this case I am talking with you so you can take the appropriate action necessary to insure that the captain of this ship can keep his messages restricted to ship's business."

Kell stared at Kirk, for a moment too surprised to respond.

"In other words, write your mother, that's an order," Kirk said with what might have been a smile on his face.

"Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir" was the Klingon's muttered reply.

Then the door opened and an officer wearing a red uniform entered the room.

"Captain," the officer said.

"Scotty," Kirk replied, then turned his attention back to Kell. "That will be all, crewman, you are dismissed."

The Klingon got up from his seat and headed for the door as another officer entered the briefing room.