The
Odd Couple
By Kara
and Riz
This is a Sirella and Martok story written for entertainment, not
profit. We acknowledge that the names etc. are the property of
Paramount/Viacom. We are merely borrowing them. If you have any
comments, please write to either zealstyler@aol.com or kdruidh@aol.com
Part One - The Meeting
Martok closed the door and stood in the hall marvelling at the
vastness of the house he had just bought. Slowly he strode from
room to room, his footsteps echoing on the stone floors. It had
taken almost all his carefully amassed fortune to buy this place
and furnishing it would have to wait till he captured another few
prize ships. Still, it was in the right location, and for a man
like him with no family to support him, having the right address
was very important. For a nobody from the despised Ketha lowlands,
it was an achievement beyond measure. On a whim he dashed up the
stairs, through the master bedroom and into the bathroom. He
stared at the enormous bath, hardly daring imagine himself in
such splendour. He ordered it to fill with hot water and slowly
stripped off his uniform letting it drop on the floor, then he
stepped into the hot water, permitting himself a grunt of
pleasure. It was a huge change from the Spartan conditions on
board ship. His targ pattered into the room and began lapping at
the hot water till Martok shooed it away.
Still, it had served to remind him that he had no business
wallowing in luxury. Once he had bathed, he would have to work on
his uniform, cleaning and polishing it and making it as
immaculate as possible. He promised himself that one day he'd
have servants to do this for him, but today he'd have to do it
himself. He thought about the captain's star he'd be able to fix
on the collar. Of course, he probably be the most junior ranked
officer at the fleet's annual Empire Day festival, but he was
used to being treated with a degree of contempt. He'd bet that he
would be the only one at the festivities who had worked as a
civilian cleaner on a ship of the line. They were called 'scum'
and were employed to do the jobs that even the lowliest naval
rating would not consider. And yet now he was a captain, and was
beginning to live the life of a lord, but the way ahead was
fraught with hidden perils. He had no illusions about that. He
would be mixing with the members of the High Council and the
noblest families in land. There would be hidden power struggles
going on and it would be very easy to do or say the wrong thing.
He would have to tread very carefully. Mental preparation was as
important as being correctly dressed. It was going to be like
navigating an asteroid belt with the sensors down, but he know he
had to be confident of his ability. Any sign of self doubt and he'd
be lost without trace.
***********
In a nearby neighbourhood, Lursa was also preparing for her first
appearance at the fleet's celebrations. Her father, Ja'Rod had
informed her the previous day that she was now old enough to
accompany him and her brother Duras. After all, it was a
festivity for all the fleet commanders and their families, or at
least, those who happened to be in the main city at the time.
Like all Klingon festivities, young children were excluded as it
was all too easy for them to get hurt and blood feuds to start in
consequence, so part of Lursa's excitement was the acknowledgment
that she was now old enough to take a full part in public life.
She wondered if she'd meet any young warriors that she'd fancy.
After all, with her family's wealth and political connections,
she knew she would be a great catch for any ambitious young man.
She'd just have to look her best and they'd come flocking. With
that thought she tore off the dress she was wearing and screamed
to the maid to bring her another. The girl came running with an
armful of clothes and Lursa took the opportunity to lash out at
her spitefully.
"If things aren't perfect tonight, it will be your fault,
and be sure I'll make you pay." she snarled, struggling into
a different dress. After a few moments studying herself in the
mirror, she decided the first was preferable after all. Time was
running out and she had yet to have her hair done. The maid
carefully combed and braided it and secretly hoped her mistress
would make a fool of herself at the celebrations.
***************
In a rambling house in a shabbier part of the city, another,
slightly older young woman was also preparing for the
celebrations. There was little joy in her heart at the prospects
of the evening ahead, Although she could claim descent from
Emperors, the sad fact was that the family she was born into had
not prospered, which was why they still lived in the ancestral
home even though the area had gone out of fashion. Her whole life
had been a matter of 'keeping up appearances.' She needed a new
dress for tonight but there simply was no money so she was trying
to alter an old one of her mother's to make it look more modern.
She scowled as the needle ran into her finger. It wasn't the pain
but the fact that she need to be even more careful not to get
bloodstains on the fabric.
Once she had been excited at the prospect of going to things like
the Empire Day festivities but she had quickly discovered that
they could be very boring, especially as she had to spend most of
her time with the older women as one of the hostesses. She'd been
acting as hostess for her father ever since her mother died. By
virtue of his birth and breeding, he was one of the main hosts at
innumerable functions and Sirella had to be there at his side,
Indeed, it was the costs of these functions that made such huge
holes in the family budget. So they only hired servants when
needed, and most of the time, Sirella ran the home and, as
tonight, found ways to recycle what they could. Her only escape
would be an arranged marriage with a wealthy lord, but her father
seemed to have as little success in sorting this out as he did in
the rest of his life. Sirella lived in dread of learning she was
to be married off to some decrepit old man who wanted to breed a
few more sons with an impeccable pedigree, but it seemed certain
this was to be her fate.
She finished off the alterations and tried on the dress. At least
it fitted. She quickly tied her hair up and fastened it with some
of her mother's hair ornaments. She thought she looked quite
pretty, and remembering her lineage, she swept proudly out of the
room, ready to look down her nose at those of lower birth.
**************
Martok stood alone at the entrance to the Hall of the High
Council. No one had come to greet him. Well, he'd known that he'd
be the most junior one there hadn't he? Knowing it and accepting
it were two very different things, however. Apparently, he wasn't
yet worthy of a formal announcement but he knew he was being
watched; how he reacted was probably yet another test of his
worthiness to be admitted to 'society', whatever that meant.
Before he could decide, he was enthusiastically hailed by Kraden,
a warrior who had been made Captain at the same ceremony as
himself. His pleasure at seeing him arrive somewhat surprised
Martok; after all they'd only met the once and then only briefly.
Kraden came from a wealthy and long established family and hadn't
shown much interest in Martok at the promotion ceremony. This
enthusiastic welcome attracted considerable attention and Martok
felt himself becoming the focus of a great deal of attention. Now
that his choice had effectively been made for him, Martok strode
towards Kraden and noticed he was standing next to two other
people, an old but distinguished looking civilian and a young
woman. No, he realised that this description just wouldn't do but
he couldn't find the words to describe her. Simply put, she was
breathtaking. For probably the first time in his life Martok was
speechless, which was just as well because whoever she was, the
look of disdain in her eyes made her opinion of him only too
clear. He'd been snubbed by a woman before but truth be told, he'd
never minded all that much. This time it felt like a personal
affront. Before he could decide what to do, he realised Kraden
was introducing him to the old man, making sure that Martok
couldn't get a word in. He realised Kraden was describing his
most recent engagements and noticed that the old man's eyes lit
up at the description of the innovative tactics Martok had used.
'So, it was you' the old Man said. 'I've been meaning to contact
you about the report you filed. Come, we must discuss your final
pass against that Orion vessel.' Kraden stepped in and completed
the introduction. The old man was Krollor, Custodian of the
Imperial Archives, a man known for his encyclopaedic knowledge of
the history of the Imperial Navy, a famed interest in innovative
battle tactics, and on a personal level, a man reputed to be the
biggest bore in the Empire. A very well connected bore however,
as his late wife's sister was married to K'mpec, Leader of the
High Council. Before she died, Linkasa had persuaded K'mpec to
install her husband as Custodian. After all, nepotism was a truly
Klingon vice.
As Kraden made good on his escape, Martok smiled inwardly. He
might have come from nothing but he wasn't going to stay there.
He'd educated himself and read every military text he could get
his hands on, but there were many that could only be accessed
with the goodwill of the man now in front of him. How long they
stood talking about his last battle, Martok couldn't really
recall but judging by the tapping foot of the young woman at
Krollor's side, it must have been a very long time. He regretted
annoying her but he was enjoying himself. As he listened Martok
realised that Krollor had been greatly misjudged; he truly had a
gift for making history interesting, so Martok raised the
question of Kor's victory at Krac'te'kel'bracht. Just as Krollor
began to describe the unpublished reports in the archives, the
crowd parted and K'mpec strode towards them.
'Found another victim have you Krollor? Come, Linkara is waiting
to talk to Sirella.' As he turned to leave, Krollor turned to
Martok 'Come to dinner tonight. Sirella can throw something
together can't you child?'
**************
CHILD!!!!! If he wasn't her father, she'd have killed him. Come
to think of it, she still might, she mused angrily. Another
evening of boring military stories and after dinner she'd be left
to her own devices whilst the men re-enacted the campaign in
question. Playing with children's toys was a better way of
putting it in her opinion. Those dratted little figures were toys
not weapons. She'd throw something together all right, and aim it
straight at that hulking idiot who'd so fascinated her father. To
make everything even more perfect she would have to spend the
rest of the evening reciting the history of her mother's family
to Aunt Linkara - all those women, and who really cared that her
twenty-third maternal grandmother had been an emperor's daughter!
As she turned to follow the others, she bumped into a child
coming in the other direction. Before she could apologise, K'mpec
barked at her to hurry and she obeyed.
*********
It was ruined! Her dress was absolutely ruined. She'd been
carrying a flagon of blood wine for her father which was the most
grown up thing she'd been allowed to do all day. Until his thirst
got the better of him, Ja'Rod had confined his daughter to the
benches surrounding the walls of the Council Audience chamber -
along with the rest of the 'children.' She'd been so bored until
HE arrived. She'd known he was The One from the moment he arrived
and he'd looked straight at her for such a long time. If that
idiot Kraden hadn't intervened she'd have introduced herself, no
matter what Duras would have thought - in fact, knowing he'd have
hated seeing her talk to a nobody would have added extra spice to
the whole situation. To make it worse her precious brother should
have been keeping her company but oh, no, he'd been making targ
eyes at that Sirella. Why he'd decided on her baffled Lursa,
though really she knew why, Ja'Rod had told him to court the
supercilious aristocrat. Sirella was, in Lursa's view, too tall
and too thin to be considered beautiful and her teeth were
positively straight Ugh! If he married her, Duras wouldn't be
very warm at night. He'd have to hope her lineage was worth it!
***********
Mission accomplished Martok thought to himself. In fact, he didn't
think he'd stay much longer. If he left after the speeches by K'mpec
and the rest of the High Council he'd have just enough time for a
good combat training session. That would be the perfect way to
work up a healthy appetite for what he knew would be a memorable
dinner and it would give him time to decide what to say when
introduced to Sirella. He just had to get that right. A lot
depended on it, more than he liked to admit, even to himself.
***********
Sirella was in a foul mood. The Empire Day celebrations had been
even more boring than usual, and she had to prepare a meal
tonight for some hulking oaf to whom her father had taken a
liking. She mixed the blood with the cereal for the blood pie and
began adding the seasoning. Her hand slipped and much too much of
the hottest herb fell into the mixture. She wondered if she could
spoon some of it out. Her housekeeping allowance was nearly spent
and she'd had to buy some decidedly second-rate gagh as it was.
She couldn't afford to start again on the pie. Had she not been
so angry she might have tried to repair the damage but instead
she briskly mixed the herbs into the mixture. It was as close as
she dared come to defying her father. She smiled grimly at the
expressions she imagined on the faces of him and his guest as
they tasted her cooking.
Her father came in to inspect the table just as she finished
laying out the food.
'Maj' he nodded approvingly.
'What is the name of our guest?' Sirella asked.
'Martok. He has just been made Captain.' Krollor replied. 'He
seems to have come up with some interesting tactics while he was
patrolling the borders of the Empire. I think we might have quite
an original thinker on our hands.'
Sirella suppressed a groan. She'd have to be there as hostess for
at least part of the evening but she'd make her excuses to leave
as soon as possible. A night spent discussing evasive manoeuvres
or attack positions wasn't her idea of a good time. A pity really,
as she'd found him more attractive than the average young hulking
oaf, but, as she reminded herself, looks meant nothing.
*************
Martok had problems of his own about his evening at Krollor's
house. Had he been back in the Ketha lowlands he'd have got a
good haunch of grach and presented that as his contribution to
the meal. It was what was expected. He had no idea what someone
of Krollor's class would expect, and he couldn't really ask
without betraying his background. He eventually decided that gagh
was always acceptable. He bought a large quantity of the most
expensive variety he could find, and just hoped it would be all
right.
He was surprised when Sirella herself opened the door to him and
showed him into the house. He had expected her to be much too
proud. She accepted the gagh, which was a relief. He had half
expected her to throw it back at him, and indeed for a brief
minute he thought she was tempted. Had he but known, she was
thinking how miserly it made her meal look. She hadn't eaten gagh
this good since she had been invited to a banquet at K'mpec's
house. She didn't like been shown up by a hulking oaf!
As her father seemed to have disappeared, she was left with the
task of entertaining the new Captain, and had the time to study
him. He wasn't bad looking, and her father seemed to think highly
of him, so she felt she should perhaps try and get to know him a
bit better. She showed him the most treasured family weapons,
then some of the tapestries and paintings. He couldn't help
noticing that most of the furnishings looked as if they had seen
better days, and he had become aware by then that in spite of her
haughty demeanour, Sirella and her father seemed to exist without
servants. They may be high born but they certainly weren't rich.
He became very interested in one painting that didn't even depict
a battle scene. Instead it showed two lovers eloping in the night.
'Isn't that Kinchalla and Chinthi?' he asked.
'She was a remote ancestor of my father's' Sirella replied.
Martok was impressed. 'Her story is my favourite opera' he said.
'A somewhat subversive choice, isn't it?' Sirella wasn't going to
admit it was her favourite too.
'Perhaps so. Or perhaps it is a needed cautionary tale on the
results of defying the family.' He took the opportunity to boldly
study Sirella. By Kahless, she was lovely, and beneath that proud
exterior she carried the genes of the most famous rebel in
Klingon history. Of course, Klingon genealogies held that sons
only inherited attributes from the father's side, and daughters
from their mothers. It was nonsense of course as geneticists had
shown long ago but it was a nonsense perpetuated in the family
genealogies each Klingon had to learn. Boys learned only of their
male ancestors and girls of their female ones.
Perhaps Sirella had been thinking along similar lines because she
suddenly said 'I know the histories of most of the people who
matter and I don't recall hearing the name of Martok in any of
them.'
'My family have never been important.' he replied, hoping she
wouldn't probe further.
Luckily for him, his answer seemed to satisfy her. Indeed, it had
answered a question she hadn't asked, about why he was so much
older than most newly created Captains.
'Captain Martok, welcome to my house' said Krollor, who had
suddenly appeared. 'We'll eat and then I have some matters to
discuss with you.'
As they ate, Krollor gave his opinions on some of the great
characters in Klingon history. Sirella had no interest in battle
tactics, but she did have a love of history. Martok too had made
a study of certain periods and had decided opinions of his own,
so the meal turned out a great success, much to Sirella's
surprise. They found many points of agreement, but being Klingons,
they all relished a good battle, even if only of words. As the
arguments grew more heated, the consumption of wine increased.
It was Martok's good fortune that they ran out of blood wine just
as he was about to sample Sirella's blood pie. She couldn't find
any in the kitchen and Krollor went out with her to the cellar to
bring in another barrel. He took a bite and nearly choked. It was
quite the worst pie he had ever tasted. He had no desire to eat
any more, but he didn't want to cause offence by leaving it. He
looked at the small fire burning in the hearth. Dashing over, he
deposited his slice of pie on top of the logs, then to his horror
saw it was most reluctant to burn. He was greatly relieved when
Krollor suggested they take the newly opened barrel into his
study where he had models and holographic projections to aid
their discussion on tactics. He told Sirella she could retire to
her room if she wished, knowing that she'd leave the rest of the
food in case they grew hungry again.
It was only as Martok was leaving that the old man said 'And it
is really bad tactics, young man, to put your hostess' pie on the
fire.' He laughed delightedly at Martok's look of shock, and
slapped him hard across the shoulders. 'I'm sure she didn't
notice. Come again tomorrow and I'll see we have a bought pie for
you.' He saw the young warrior on his way, thinking that Martok
had the making of greatness about him if he survived the
minefield of social protocols and rituals that he now had to face
as a Captain in the Klingon navy. No-one could help him in that.
He'd have to do it on his own.
And unknown to Martok, a huge mine had already been laid in his
path to social acceptance. It took the form of a young girl
called Lursa who had managed to persuade herself that he was in
love with her though they had never spoken. The only female he'd
noticed or thought about had been Sirella. But Lursa had managed
to convince herself that he had eyes only for her, and she was
eager to boast of it to her younger sister B'Etor. It wouldn't be
long before B'Etor told everyone else in the family about Lursa's
par'machi.