Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [1]
“Hail the other ship,” Picard ordered. “Onscreen.” If worst came to worst, he thought, the Enterprise could handily defend itself against the alien vessel in an all-out battle. He had never personally encountered the G’kkau before, but Starfleet intelligence suggested that their weapons were not quite up to Federation standards. Still, intelligence reports had been wrong before, and Picard didn’t feel like taking any unnecessary risks, especially since the nearest reinforcements were several days away. In any event, he always preferred to try diplomacy first.
“The G’kkau are responding to our hail,” Worf stated. Picard thought he heard a rumble of disappointment in his security officer’s deep voice; no doubt the Klingon had looked forward to a glorious battle. Then a visual transmission appeared on the bridge’s main viewer, replacing the starfield that had previously been displayed there. Picard sat up straight in his chair as he got his first look at one of the occupants of the other ship. Seated at his left, Counselor Deanna Troi let out an involuntary gasp. Was she reacting to the G’kkau’s appearance, he wondered briefly, or had her empathic senses alerted her to the G’kkau’s hostile intentions?
“Counselor?” he inquired in a low voice.
“Aggression,” she whispered. “Pure, undiluted aggression.”
“I see,” Picard said. Staring at the face that had materialized on the viewer, he understood her reaction perfectly. Distinctly reptilian, the alien being somewhat resembled a Gorn, except that the G’kkau seemed even less humanoid. Iridescent green scales glittered over its exposed head and shoulders, which took up most of the screen. A long, flat snout, much like a Terran crocodile’s, protruded from the creature’s skull. Pendulous dewlaps hung from the G’kkau’s throat. A pair of yellow eyes, marked by thin black pupils, were lodged above the origin of its snout, beneath a sloping, scaly brow. A transparent third eyelid blinked rapidly over the G’kkau’s lizard-like eyes; the nictitating membranes seemed to flash, as if in Morse code, an unending message of warning and hostility. Picard could not see the rest of the G’kkau’s body, but from the placement of its shoulders he guessed that it routinely traveled on all fours rather than erect—assuming, of course, that it had merely four limbs. At the moment, Picard could not recall the specifics of G’kkau anatomy; he made a mental note to himself to consult the Federation’s biological database as soon as it was convenient.
“I am Master Kakkh of the Fang,” the being on the screen declared. The ship’s Universal Translator gave Kakkh’s voice a masculine timbre. “What are you doing in this sector?” Rows of sharp, serrated teeth clacked together as he spoke; evolution had clearly provided the G’kkau with the deadly jaws of a carnivore. Picard called on his Starfleet training, and years of experience dealing with all manner of sentient entities, to suppress the instinctive foreboding that the sight of those ferocious fangs instilled in him. Both humans and Klingons, he reminded himself, had evolved from predator species, and yet both peoples had proven themselves capable of acting in a civilized manner … even if, Picard silently conceded, Klingons had a somewhat different idea of what constitutes civilization. He hoped the G’kkau could do the same, despite the grim record of the past few centuries.
“I am Jean-Luc Picard,” he began, a stony expression upon his face. “Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, representing the United Federation of Planets.”
“We know you, Enterprise,” Kakkh said harshly. A forked tongue flicked in and out of the G’kkau commander’s snapping jaws. The cabin behind Kakkh was dimly lit by human standards; Picard glimpsed only shadows and swirling, purple mists. “What are you doing in this region?”
“I might ask you the same question,” Picard said. He rose from his chair and strode to the front of the bridge, stepping closer to the