Coming of Age

by Riz

Disclaimer - This is a piece of fan fiction not intended to be used for profit and borrowing names which are the property of Paramount.

Kurn gazed out of the window at the familiar scene, but his eyes barely registered the formal grounds of the estate or the mountains rising in the far distance. Instead,he looked up to the cloudless night sky where the naked stars twinkled down. It was perfect - the kind of night for taking vows, or for looking into ones heart. He had reached his nenghep, the Klingon Age of Ascension. This time tomorrow he should have proved himself a man. Tonight was the time for refleen the two women.

Yar turned her back, walked away, removed her own outer garment, slipped the thalodistan chip safely against her last molar. This, she thought, remembering an earlier challenge, this I understand. Yar brought discipline to bear on her thoughts, slowing her heartbeat, regulating her breathing, striving for a state of perfect relaxation. I am an officer and a lady. I will go out to meet death freely.

I won't allow them to slaughter me like an animal. Calm descended and a strange euphoria enveloped her.

Yar turned and faced her opponent ,drained of hate or any other emotion. The ritual cuts were made on the back of her hand to test the blade's sharpness and insure against poison. The requisite minutes ticked by and she rested the haft easily in her right palm. The leather grip slipped over her fingers ensuring she would not drop it. Merohe did not charge, Yar had not expected her to. Yar settled her stance comfortably, trained her eyes on her opponent's, and waited. Merohe's expression was far from calm, it contained grim, feral rage. She circled her human opponent, thrailike and vicious, searching for an opening. Yar settled back, only reacting to her movements, initiating nothing. This state of nothingness further enraged the Rihanna centurion. She crossed the arena , her blade slashed upwards, her free hand reaching for Yar to draw her into the point.

tainers of pure Klingon blood who were too old for active duties. They taught him the traditional fighting skills while, like all children, he learned his academic lessons through computerised classes. Like all children, he had at some time thought he could outwit the computer and put in as little affort as possible, and like all children, he had been found out and suffered for his laziness. He had learned that his duty was to give of his best at all times, and duty and honour were the two things closest to a Klingon's heart.

His thoughts turned to his sisters. They had returned for the nentay and he had been glad to see them. Both were officers in the Imperial Navy and he would soon be joining them. For the first time in years, his thought also turned to the youngest of the sisters, the one closest to him in age. As a small child they frequently fought and she always beat him, much to his fury. He knew one day he would outgrow her and must one day be the champion, but it did not make losing any easier. He had been so jealous of her when father or mother took her hunting but said he was too young. Then one hunting trip had gone wrong and she had been killed. His parents had been in an evil mood for some time afterwards. The servitors had crept around and were clearly afraid, and Kurn was given beatings for the smallest mistakes. Like everyone else, he had learned quickly never to mention his sister, and in time her memory had faded. How odd he should think of her now.

He turned his mind from such thoughts and instead concentrated on the good times. His first hunting trip. The thrill of his first kill. How his father had laughed as he licked the blood from his fingers, and his triumph as he laid the carcase of his first kill at his mother's feet. The excitement and enjoyment of hunting had never left him. It was his favourite recreation.

Then there were the feast days and celebrations, like his sisters' nentays, with all the line gathered to witness as they would tomorrow for him. The feasting afterwards with the men in one room and the women and children in another. Tomorrow he would join the men. He would be able to take part in their curse warfare. Many times he had watched with his mother and sisters. They laid bets with the women of other families, each backing their menfolk to triumph. Much money changed hands in a good battle. Kurn rehearsed to himself some of the best curses he had heard. May he have chance to use them, and to use them well!

But as with all Klingon celebrations, some pain had to be endured along with the pleasure. Tomorrow the pain would be his. He would have to travel the river of blood and endure the agony of the painsticks, using the pain to break down his inhibitions so he revealed his truest thoughts. He must not falter, for if he did, his own father would kill him for his cowardice. He must endure. Well he had some practice. He may have had a privileged upbringing but he had never been pampered. Now he was at Star Academy he certainly knew the darker side of life. The discipline was awesome and unrelenting. No mistakes or shortcomings were tolerated. He had not personally experienced the agoniser booth but some of his comrades had and they feared it. He had felt the touch of the painstick when he failed to respond quickly enough to an order. It had left him writhing in agony on the ground. Would he be strong enough to endure tomorrow?

With the doubts came the awareness of the chill in the room. He shuddered with the cold. A true warrior would not give in to bodily weakness, but he was also aware that he would have to be in peak condition to acquit himself well on the morrow. As a compromise he left the window open but got into bed and pulled the covers tightly around himself and tried to sleep.

The following evening he stood at the same window. It was closed now and the sky was cloudy. It matched his mood. So much had happened this day that he had not expected. He had travelled the river of blood and acquitted himself well. His father had beamed with pride and his mother had so far forgotten herself that she had embraced him. His sisters had been more subdued but had congratulated him warmly, as had his other relations. He had been showered with gifts, enough to stock a small armoury. No matter how many children he may one day sire, there would be weapons enough for all.

Then had come the feasting, with Kurn seated among the men and treated as an equal. He had nearly burst with pride. Afterwards his mother and sisters had treated him with the deference due to an adult male relative. No more could they order him about. Now, while at home, they must obey him. Outside, of course, his sisters outranked him and he would have to act accordingly, but that mattered little beside the sweet pleasure of seeing them subservient to him on this day.

After the feasting, and glowing with the after effects of the Romulan Ale which he had tasted for the first time, he had happily followed his father for a quiet stroll in the grounds. Loy had walked some way from the house and then sat on a stone bench by a fountain. He bade Kurn sit beside him.

"Today you are a man." he had stated. "And as a man, there are things you must know." Perhaps the Ale had fuddled his brain, for Kurn had no warning that his father's words were to shatter his life. Loy told him that Kurn was not his blood son. His real father was a warrior called Mogh, the head of another proud line. Loy and Mogh had been friends since Star Academy and their careers had run in parallel until Loy's coolant poisoning. Mogh had been sent to Khitomer to install a new defence network. It was a border world with few facilities and the posting should not have taken long, so he and his consort had decided to take only their older son with them. Loy and Mar had agreed to take care of the baby for them. That baby was Kurn.

"You know what happened at Khitomer?"

Kurn nodded. Everyone knew what happened at Khitomer.

"Your blood parents died well in defence of the Empire. Now you are a man, you may choose to stay in my line or rejoin your blood line. Whatever you choose, you will always be welcome in my house." Loy told him. "One thing only I ask. I have raised you as my son. When the time comes, will you do a son's duty to me and assist me in my death?"

Kurn nodded. It was the least he could do. "I swear under the naked stars." he promised. Already his head was spinning with the implications of Loy's tale. If he remained as Loy's son, his father would undoubtedly help his career when he joined the Imperial navy. On the other hand, if he understood correctly, he could be the head of a line with all the power and position that entailed. Thinking to check, he asked his father if this was the case.

"I do not know." was Loy's reply. "Your older brother ,Worf, was one of the few survivors of the Romulan attack. He was rescued by a Federation ship and I believe a human took him for his son. If that is true, and if he still lives, he would be the head of the line."

Kurn reeled. It was one thing to discover that Loy was not his blood father, but quite another to learn that he had a brother. No only that, but a brother who had been raised as a human! Kurn knew little of alien races. He had lived surrounded by alien servitors but had merely accepted that they were his inferiors and had never inquired into their ways. Imagine having to live as one of them! Yet he had an older brother who was one of them. It was more that a proud Klingon should be expected to bear.

"I do not wish to claim my blood inheritance." he told Loy stiffly. His father nodded and smiled. "One day you may feel differently, but for now your decision pleases me." he said.

In the isolation and quiet of his room, Kurn found his thoughts returning again and again to this unknown brother. Worf, a Klingon living among humans. He should not be so hard to trace. Perhaps one day, he thought, I'll contrive to meet you. I'll know who you are but you'll never know who I am. That way, if you have no honour I can reject you totally.

One day, brother Worf. One day.

----END---