Lieutenant Commander Worf Novels & Stories

The Camouflage's commanding officer, Spear Commander Kolosi, met War Commander Xian Karrh at the main lock. He wore the same uniform that his superior did, except that his gem was red. Though mutually respectful, both officers were wary as well, since no Dodvalian truly trusts anyone else. "Greetings, War Commander... We welcome your presence". This at least was true, since Kolosi had been waiting for two complete ship cycles, two dangerous ship cycles, and looked forward to leaving the sector as soon as he could. The cloaking technology was good, but so were Confederate sensors, and there were plenty of patrols.

The thought burns, twisting my worry into anger. “Grimm Coleman.” Grimm’s name is called, and my mind snaps back. Grimm shoots me a look before stepping to the front, joining the others whose names were called. The lieutenant turns, his list complete. Damn it. Another lieutenant steps forward. And of course, my name is called. “Valeria Langford.” As I step forward, the lieutenant’s presence is impossible to ignore. A tall, bald man marked by stress lines and a jagged scar across his face. He looks like someone who tolerates no nonsense.

Zaric growled at the commander, shaking his head disappointedly as he remembered all those empty claims he used to hear by that same man. "Who are you? How do you know about Vulcan? Are you one of the loyal guards Vulcan had?" Asked the commander in a confused tone. The commander was starting to get angry as he heard the name he hated the most. He thought there was no one alive in this world to speak that bake in front of him ever again.

Where they'd decided to hunt wolves for generations. The commander gestured to a chair. "Sit." I sat, hands folded to hide their trembling. Cole was placed across from me. Our eyes met in shared understanding. The commander settled at the head of the table, flanked by two officers—a sharp-eyed woman and a younger man with rigid bearing. "I am Commander Garrett. Second in command of the Order. These are Captain Reyna and Lieutenant Marks." I nodded to each. Garrett was neutral. Reyna skeptical but open. Marks openly hostile.

Not yet. The warriors shifted uneasily but began backing away from the border. One figure stepped forward from their line. A broad-shouldered wolf with silver streaking his dark hair. Commander Jared. He crossed the line of warriors but stopped a few feet from Decker. “Alpha,” he said quietly. Decker met his gaze. “Commander.” Jared’s eyes moved briefly toward the Edgewater Falls warriors behind Decker. “And the enemy?” Decker’s voice remained calm. “They are not the enemy tonight.”

"Those are command codes from my private dispatch desk. Only five wolves in my inner circle have clearance to access those routes." Damien's green eyes blazed in the dark. "We have a leak in the high command. Someone sold Freya's patrol schedule to the contractors." "Varner?" I asked, naming the senior captain who had organized the morning search team. "Varner has served this pack for twenty years," Kendrick replied, his eyes narrowing as he studied the map. "His father fought beside mine. But loyalty can be bought if the price is high enough, or if the threat to family is severe enough."

He was in charge of the entire unit and the three areas under it, the only officers with the permission to see him directly were the four Commanders of Unit One. Commander Naukles Smuts was the strongest and most responsible of the four. Below him was Commander Clemens Larazza, she was an erratic overzealous officer who usually followed her own rules rather than those set by her superiors. The third and fourth ranked were the twins Garrys and Barbie Gore. Garrys was the older and had an attitude for being jumpy while Barbie was more reserved and shy than any of the commander's. The bounty limit of a Commander was one billion perus.

a voice said, dripping with a subtle, sharp irony. Cillian looked up. Standing in the doorway was Commander Reed, a veteran of three border wars and a man who had served Lachlan’s father. Reed did not bow. He did not bare his neck. He simply stood there, his arms crossed over a chest scarred by silver-tipped claws. "And?" Cillian asked, trying to pitch his voice lower to command authority. "What do they say?"

A smile then curled her lips in relief. “Commander, are you…? Contact the chief.” Avalon raced to the commander crouching on the floor. She saw how badly injured their commander was. However, it still looked like he was moving around like normal, granted that no one else could protect these people. “I’m okay. Delta’s making sure I can move around for a few more minutes. Let’s get these people out.” Wolfram slowly got up and looked at half of his elite Red Core squad. “Bring those terrorists to me.”

The heavy canvas flap of the command tent was violently thrown open, admitting a furious swirl of mountain snow and three hulking northern wolves. At the head of the trio was Commander Vorn, a scarred, nine-foot veteran whose grey fur bristled with undisguised contempt. He wore heavy iron plate armor, his hand resting aggressively on the pommel of his massive two-handed greatsword. Flanking him were his two chief lieutenants, their amber eyes blazing with the predatory, mutinous rage of warriors who realized they had been sold a phantom empire.