Qris’s study report lay on the serving table in the vaulted inner dining room. He had known for a time that his grades were slipping -especially in the sciences and formulas. A lump of fear coursed icily through his veins. He knew that his mother and his Legal Guardian (his Father’s brother,) had seen it. Punishment would soon follow.
He was alone in his room, putting the finishing touches on the new guitar he was making.
He was satisfied with the design that was taking shape in the hard wood of an Anq’ tree. The headstock was shaped like a Mek’leth blade that was pointed upward. The neck had been lengthened and widened to accommodate his long fingers, the sound board was blood red Hedgewood, the frets made of a black, synthetic poly-alloy. The body had a sharpened down thrusting chopping blade on the bottom and a fine toothed sawing edge across the top: his own design, based on an ancient hunting ax.
Qris was hand sanding the upper blades with a smooth abrasive cloth when his Father’s Brother came into his room. He was, to use a human expression, piSt ov’.
Ka Rell did not see the beautifully handmade instrument. What he saw, instead, was the young, ungrateful little patach sitting there caressing his ridiculous toy like she was a young lover. Next thing you know, he’s going to start in with the love poetry.”Boy, you sit up here and play with your toys?! You should be studying for your Warrior entrance exams! Your grades are slipping! And you immerse yourself in that devilish crap that you call music!” Qris didn’t answer, didn’t even respond to Ka Rell’s raging. He sat quietly and continued his work.
Ka Rell seethed. He grasped the cloth out of Qris’ hand. “Who do you think you are!?” he yelled to the silent youth. Qris could smell his Patron’s rotten breath as huge gobs of spittle flew from the elder’s mouth. Ka Rell leaned in closer. From the top of his voice he growled, “What do you want to do with your life?!
Qris looked up though his brow ridges at his Father’s brother, his eyes narrowed in defiance. He replied in a low, gruff sounding voice that was full of challenge. “I want to ROCK!”
Ka Rell exploded. He grasped the instrument from Qris’ hands. “Until you get back in line with your warrior training, you’ll not have this to caress.” Ka Rell turned his back on the now fuming Qris and started for the door, his hand clumsily wrapped around the unfinished guitar.
Qris screamed and leaped through the air, landing on Ka- Rell’s back. He wanted to throttle the life out of his Father’s brother. But before he could wrap his hands around the Targ-like neck, Ka Rell flung him through the air with a casual move. Next thing he knew, Ka Rell had Qris on the floor in a sure-handed death grip.
Ka Rell looked down at the youth’s supine form and said in a voice that was filled with triumph, “So, boy, the warrior’s instinct hasn’t fully left you. But you still have a lot to learn. When you are a Warrior-if, you become one-then you could possibly kill me. . .” Ka Rell stood up, letting Qris free to rub his neck and start breathing again, “. . . But not today.”
All was not lost however. Qris still had his original guitar at their studio, along with appointments with other Music Academy students who wanted to play the earth music as well. With a violent shrug, Qris bolted out the door past his mother who said something he didn’t hear.
* * *
It was just awful.
The small youth with the over large meSchuS, while his skill was adequate, couldn’t keep up with the fast rhythms. And the Klingon instrument’s booming low end sounded just dreadful next to the guitars. Drums were an impossibility as well. The concept of one drummer playing multiple drums was just as alien an idea as the electric guitar. They tried it last week with three marching corps drummers: it sounded just as bad.
One day, after that awful tIng-Dach player left, B’arq stormed out of the studio, frustrated but with an idea all his own. He took his instrument with him back to the Music Academy. He returned the following day with his new bass, saying that he had worked through the night to finish it in time for today’s gathering. With B’arq now on the bass, their music had taken on mystical proportions. The low frequencies added strong backbones and a more distinct color. It strengthened the higher frequencies, further enhancing the rich sound of Qris’s guitar. Now all they needed was to figure out their percussive dilemma with the drums.
* * *
The word was starting to spread among the tlhIngan youth of the First City about a group of young tlhIngan‘s that were fooling around with a strange and compelling Earth music called rock and roll.
It had all started when Torn brought the Earth music with him to the Warrior Academy.
The young warrior students had instantly taken to the brutally aggressive human music. They would practice hand to hand combat, sword fighting and disrupter tag with that infernal racket blasting out from the tactics and strategies computer. Their blows and counter blows were more precise than ever. When one fell in combat, he would get up laughing-instead of crying out in pain. The fallen one would grab his opponent. They would collide their heads together then swing each other in ever widening circles to the music, sometimes knocking down other warriors in the process. Their battle enthusiasm was as loud and obnoxious as the screeching music. During sword play the young warriors’ practice swords would chime against each other in time with the music. They parried and thrust in a dance of deadliness, their moves more graceful than they had ever been before.
The Elder watched in puzzled amazement as the young warriors met each other in battle drills. Even though it hurt the Elder’s ears, he could hear that there was something to this Earthly heavy metal music that made the young warriors fight with such gusto on the practice floor. Yes, even though this human music was disturbing to the Elder, it was still oddly tlhIngan in fashio-and this concerned him the most. He was afraid to think that maybe tlhIngans and Humans were more alike than they were different.
For the last three years, since his fifteenth birthday, Ahmed had been extremely bored and lonely living behind the isolated walls of the Embassy, where he lived with his father, the Federation Ambassador to the tlhIngan Empire. The only other young people were a six-year-old girl, her four-year-old brother and a twelve-year-old Andorian male who wasn’t very nice. tlhIngan kids his age wouldn’t associate themselves with their sworn enemies.
Ahmed found out about the alloy music from the tlhIngan guards that patrolled outside the embassy walls. He had spent his days behind that wall, teaching himself the language of the locals by listening in on their conversations.
He became very exited at the news of the tlhIngan Earth band, and he wanted seek out these tlhIngans. He knew that if he could associate himself with them, perhaps he would be lonely no more. Ahmed’s father was more than willing to help his son find these tlhIngans that enjoyed human music.
Ahmed spent the next week learning all that he could about Earth’s rocking past until he could secure the travel permit that would allow him to go outside of the Alien Diplomatic sector.
* * *
