His attention was drawn to the flames licking the edges of the building at the opposite end of the village’s center square. A hole was visible in the thatch material that covered the structure’s sloped roof. Groups of Palgrenai had emerged from a few of the surrounding buildings to investigate the source of the commotion. Flickering light cast off from the fire reflected off their leathery skin, momentarily reminding Morqla of one species of particularly fierce reptile he had encountered during his youth while hunting in the jungles of Qo’noS.
As Morqla moved farther into the courtyard he noted from the expressions on some of the villagers’ faces that few of the locals appeared to be frightened or surprised by the sudden assault of the otherwise peaceful night. He saw nothing that indicated outright guilt or even complicity, but instinct told the governor that the local populace was not entirely ignorant about what had happened.
“Look out!” a voice shouted from somewhere behind him at the same instant Morqla caught sight of something hurtling through the air to his right. A ball of fire, perhaps the size of a bloodwine barrel, then two more objects of similar size all arced over the trees surrounding the outskirts of the village. The trio of flaming projectiles sailed into the perimeter of the courtyard. Klingons and Palgrenai alike scattered in all directions as two of the fireballs struck the compacted earth while the third plunged through the roof of the building that had been designated as a dining facility for the Klingon garrison. Sparks and pieces of the structure flew into the air from the point of impact.
“ Bekk!”Morqla heard Kertral shout above the rising din of people yelling and the sound of alert sirens echoing through the courtyard. The governor turned to see his executive officer gathering a cadre of QuchHa’as they emerged from the building that served as a barracks for enlisted troops. “Form a search party. I want those cretins found and their heads on pikes before the sun rises!”
Even as his second-in-command issued further orders for the rounding up of Palgrenai villagers, other Klingon soldiers and locals continued to seek shelter from a new barrage of flaming shot raining down from the surrounding forest. Morqla had to admire the audacity of the attack, by far the most intensive act of sedition the jeghpu’wI’had attempted since the beginning of the occupation.
“Catapults,” he said, as another pair of flaming shots was launched from the trees and into the village square. “Impressive.”
Both of the projectiles missed hitting any of the buildings ringing the courtyard, though a few of his soldiers had to scramble to avoid being in the path of one as it plunged back to earth and bored a hole into the dry, dusty soil. Burning globs of whatever flammable substance the jeghpu’wI’had used to coat the makeshift cannonballs were flung into the air, some of it landing on a few of his troops, who in turn smacked and swiped at the flaming debris now sticking to them.
For the Palgrenai to have constructed not only the primitive implements but also the strategy to deploy them—apparently in concert with similar attacks taking place at other villages in the region—without their preparations being discovered by members of the Klingon garrison was a surprising feat. It spoke volumes not only of the villagers’ abilities to employ secrecy and cunning but also the seeming ineptitude of his own soldiers to monitor the activities of the not-so-helpless primitives over which they presided.
Turning to K’voq, he asked, “Have any casualties been reported?”
His aide shook his head. “None so far, Governor. The buildings that have been targeted to this point have either been designated as storage facilities, or else were unoccupied at this time of night.”
Morqla nodded at the report. “Interesting.” The number and tenacity of the attacks would seem to have invited at least some casualties, but would not be consistent with what he had learned of the Palgrenai since arriving on this world. While the jeghpu’wI’had been content to destroy structures, equipment, and other matériel during their previous acts of insurrection, they had gone out of their way to avoid injuring anyone, Palgrenai or Klingon alike.
It was an approach the governor could not understand, particularly given the fact that a large number of the conquered had died at Klingon hands. Still, he knew the approach would prove futile. So long as the Palgrenai were unable to do everything in their power to secure their liberation, they had no hope of ever shaking off the hand of their oppressors.
Nevertheless,Morqla reminded himself, this defiance must be crushed. Now.
“Kertral!” he shouted toward his executive officer, who still was in the process of disseminating orders to subordinates. “Execute Special Occupation Order Two!” It was a choice he made with much reluctance.
His second-in-command offered a terse, formal nod before saluting in response to the directive. “As you command, Excellency.”
Releasing a grudging sigh, Morqla shook his head as he watched his troops begin the process of corralling those villagers who still remained in the courtyard. Around the village square, he saw other soldiers kicking or shooting their way through the doors of buildings or using their bat’lethsto tear through the comparatively thin walls of neighboring dwellings, all in the name of rounding up those jeghu’wI’who still remained in the village and carrying out the order he had issued.
The time had come for total suppression of the uprising—merciless punishment not only of those responsible for the revolt but also those who might be complicit in the action. At the moment, Morqla was not concerned that he might be taking into custody parties innocent of any wrongdoing. The priority now was to restore order to the populace and reaffirm with brute force the nature of their status as servants of the empire.
Elsewhere, the telltale pulses of disruptor cannons pierced the night air at the same time as hints of harsh crimson energy illuminated the dark jungle surrounding the village. It seemed that his soldiers had found at least a few of the locations from which the insurgents were attacking and had taken to deploying weapons to deal with the rebels’ comparatively archaic and ultimately wasted efforts.
As expected, the increased measures on the part of his soldiers were causing a reaction from the forest. More of the flaming shot sailed through the air, this time crashing through the wooden walls of homes or digging furrows in the stone façades of the larger structures. Fire could be seen scorching the roofs of several of the buildings surrounding the square, and one smaller dwelling at the far end of the courtyard was already being consumed by massive flames and clouds of billowing smoke.
“Reports are coming in from all of the surrounding provinces,” K’voq reported, holding out his communicator and running to stand alongside Morqla. “The rebels are attempting counterattacks, throwing improvised firebombs at our soldiers and trying to damage disruptor cannons with those cursed catapults of theirs. We’re starting to take casualties, Excellency.”
At last,Morqla mused. It seemed the Palgrenai were indeed still capable of surprising him. Not that it would help them, of course. A line had been crossed, not only by the slaves but by the masters as well, and it was now far too late to turn back. Order demanded that control be restored, by any means necessary.
If that meant killing every jeghpu’wI’for hundreds of qelI’qamsin every direction, then so be it.
“Governor! Look out!”
Only the timely warning from his loyal aide and his own battle-honed reflexes allowed Morqla to avoid the ball of fire coming right at him. He threw himself to the right and rolled across the dry, hard ground just as the massive flaming sphere plummeted from the sky and drilled a hole in the dirt less than an arm’s length from where he had been standing.
Unfortunately, K’voq was between the projectile and the ground.