whet your appetites and insure a passionate night with your new
husband?"
Valdyr had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from erupting into
gales of hysterical laughter. Had all she learned at her father's side
of honor, battle, and glory been lies? Was this really the way Klingons
conducted themselves by betraying their leaders, lying, cheating, and
abusing the helpless? Her father would have killed this man for what he
was about to do.
"Now, what is it you wished to speak to me about?" The young woman
blinked, having nearly forgotten. She swallowed, knowing already how
futile this would be.
"I ... I wish to speak once more ... of my plans. The plans I made for
my life, while my father was still alive."
Kamarag drew away from her, his face taking on his more "official" look.
"My father, as you must know, encouraged my learning," she reminded him.
"He trained me himself, along with my four brothers, in all the
warriors' arts."
Kamarag nodded. "You were your father's favorite, of that, I'm well
aware. Training you was his way of proving your worth, since he made the
healers work so hard to save you in infancy."
She nodded, lowering her eyes. In many families, a weak, small, sickly
baby as she had been would have been allowed to die. But her father
would not permit it and demanded the
healers save her. Perhaps it was because she was his only daughter. Her
mother liked to tell her that he'd bellowed at the doctors that Valdyr's
will to live was proof that she carried a man's share of noble warrior's
blood. And he'd trained her as stringently as her stronger brothers.
She'd loved him for that.
"My father," she reminded Kamarag, "felt my mind was as strong as my
skills, as strong as my will to live. He wanted me to continue my
schooling. He knew I was not strong enough to serve as a warrior ... but
hoped I might have other skills almost as valuable to offer the Empire.
He hoped--and I shared his dream--that I might follow you, Uncle, into
diplomacy."
Kamarag raised his head in surprise. It was a compliment, and she could
see he was taking it as such.
She continued quickly, before he could stop her. "At the time, it was a
dream, a fantasy, but now ... with Azetbur holding such an important
political role, it would not be thought so unusual if I ..."
The ambassador glowered. "Azetbur! The role she has usurped is a
travesty! If she were a decent female she would have married again!
Then, she could hand her seat over to her husband, as it should be!"
Valdyr yearned to remind her uncle that Azetbur's husband had been
killed in the same attack that had killed the chancellor's father--but
that it had been Azetbur herself that Gorkon had wanted to succeed him.
"And it is this depraved female you would model yourself after?"
"Oh, no, Uncle, it is you I would ..."
"Do not flatter me, niece! I have been a politician since long before
you were born!" He was furious now, and Valdyr had no idea how to
placate him.
"But ... my father--"
"Your father is dead. t" he reminded her brutally. '7 am the head of
this family, and you will follow the life I prepare for you! You will
marry Karg, and be a faithful wife, and bear him as many male children
as your body can grow. Your
glory will be in the success of your husband and male children. You will
not live a life of perversion and depravity as that damnable Azetbur
has. Do you understand me?" Valdyr was stunned by her uncle's reaction.
Stunned and heartsick. But she showed not a trace of it on her face. She
would not shame her father's memory by displaying weakness.
"Yes, my uncle. I understand clearly."
"Then, let us be family," he said quietly, "and never speak of this
again." He turned back to regard the surveillance screens. aldyr
struggled to control her disappointment. She'd hoped that her uncle
While she and her uncle had had their brief discussion, she'd been
peripherally aware of the screens that displayed Karg's progress through
the warbird. His lieutenant, Treegor, accompanied him. The two officers
had picked up Peter Kirk from a rendezvous point on the edge of explored
space, from the tramp freighter/contraband runner that had smuggled him
off Earth.
Now, after landing on Qo'nos, at Tengchah Jay, the spaceport closest to
Du'hurgh, Kamarag's huge estate, it was time, at last, to remove the
prisoner from his cell. As Karg stalked through the corridom, he carried
in his gaunt-leted hand an electronic key that was the only means of
opening the door to the security cell.
Through all of this, the figure on the bunk had never stirred, never
twitched. Yes, Karg, Valdyr thought bitterly, bring my uncle his dead
prize.
Finally, Karg and his lieutenant reached the prisoner's cabin. Karg
inserted the key and left it in, so that the doors would remain open.
Both men were relaxed, talking and laughing with each other, confident
that the human, even in health, could be no match for them.
Karg leaned over the prisoner and shook the man's shoulder. There was no
response; the captive's arm swung limply, then hung, flaccid.
"He ... cannot be dead?" her uncle muttered, as if contemplating that
possibility for the first time. "If he is dead ..." You have nothing,
Valdyr thought, nothing but shame. "No, he lives!" Kamarag muttered as
Karg and his assistant lifted the limp form by the arms, slapping him
lightly. The man seemed almost boneless, his head lolling back and
forth, his eyes shut, his mouth sagging open.
He had to be alive, or his body would have stiffened with the death
rictus. Karg slapped the human's face again, harder, but there was no
response.
Suddenly, the prisoner groaned piteously and sagged even more. Karg and
his lieutenant bowed over his form to prevent him from collapsing to the
deck, and for a moment the human was lost to view, blocked by the
warriors' broad backs.
Then, in the next instant, the two Klingons lurched toward each other,
their heads meeting with a resounding crack. They fell backward,
staggering. The human had suddenly awakened, grabbed the warriors and
forced them together.
The human was upright now, his entire demeanor changed dramatically.
Spinning on one foot, he lashed out with his other, catching Treegor on
the chin. The warrior crashed to the deck, unconscious. Karg was up now,
and in a murderous rage, blood trickling from a head-plate cut. With a
roar, he charged the human, who moved low and struck the warrior with
his fists hard, once, twice, three times just below the breastplate, in
a warrior's most vulnerable place.
The air rushed out of Karg's lungs, and all he could do was swing
wildly. He managed to strike the human on the shoulder, but the man took
the blow well, and punched Karg twice, in his right eye.
This human knows us, aldyr realized. He'd wasted no energy attacking the
places where warriors would feel
little pain. Her gaze sharpened with
interest. She had not realized that humans could fight so well--or be so
clever!
Karg lunged after the human, meaning to snatch him up and throw him into
the nearest wall, but the smaller male held his place until the last
second, then dodged the attack.
Grabbing Karg by his armor, he shoved the big warrior hard, and Karg's
forward momentum ran him right into the bulkhead. His head struck with
stunning force, and he slid down the wall, dazed.
Without a wasted moment, young Kirk raced out of his cell, grabbing the
electronic key on his way out. Karg struggled to his feet to pursue his
escaping quarry, but the doors slid shut in front of him, locking him
inside. Valdyr stifled her laughter as she took in Karg's stupefied
expression.
raucous sound of the blaring klaxon instantly filled the air.
They watched the human on the surveillance screens as he raced down the
corridors. Kamarag's hands flew over the control panel, and on another
screen the two warriors Karg had gotten the key from suddenly appeared.
They were in the mess hall, eating. They looked up in response to the
alarm.
"Hurry!" Kamarag yelled through the intercom. "The human is loose in the
ship!" As the warriors abandoned their meals and ran out, the ambassador
secured all airlocks.
Valdyr headed for the bridge doors.
"And where are you going?" Kamarag demanded as the doors slid open
before her.
"I'm going to recapture my prisoner," she informed him matter-of-factly.
He seemed about to protest, but Karg's shouting as he hammered against
his prison door quickly distracted him. She was in the hall before he
had another second to think about it.
The human will head for the bridge, she decided. It would be the only
way he could effect a genuine escape. Leaving the ship would merely
strand him on a planet where he would be the only one of his kind, and
entirely too easy to find. No, he'd need to get to the bridge,
commandeer it. No doubt he'd figure out where it was in a matter of
minutes. He was clever, this human.
Those of us that are not as strong must develop our minds
all the more, she thought, grinning with the excitement of the pursuit.
She was eager to go against this man. This warrior, she thought,
shocking herself. And what else should he be called? Starved,
alehydrated, and inactive for days, this human had managed to have both
the strength and the cunning to overcome two of Kamarag's best warriors.
Valdyr raced down the corridor, heading toward the prisoner's cabin. She
realized then that she had no weapon but her knife, and her fighting
skills. She could not stun the man; she would have to fight him
barehanded. She frowned.
Would he fight her? Or would he give her that look, that patronizing
expression warriors always gave her? It would be shameful for a warrior
tojight a woman, she was always told.
And she always responded, No, it is only shameful to fight her ... and
lose. Gritting her teeth, she slid to a halt behind a juncture of
corridors. This was the path to the bridge. To reach it, he would have
to come through her.
Valdyr heard the thudding of feet on deckplates, then a Klingon
warrior's guttural shout. She peered around the corner , her body hidden
by the angled wall. The human, who'd been headed her way, spun around to
face a Klingon racing toward him from the rear. Young Kirk waited until
the warrior was nearly on top of him, then with an earsplit-ting yell of
his own, leaped high in the air, smashing both feet into the warrior's
face. The Klingon hit the deckplates so hard they shuddered. Kirk landed
badly himself, pulling himself up with an effort. Panting for breath, he
moved steadily toward her.
The Klingon woman stepped into his path from behind the curve and he
stopped short. Chest heaving, he gulped for air. It had cost him, this
fight, and she could see he was near the end of his strength.
"It is over," she said clearly in English. "You have fought well. Be
proud. Now yield, and come with me." Kirk was clearly surprised to hear
her use his language.
His shoulders sagged, as if in defeat, but she didn't trust him and went
into a defensive stance. His gaze moved over her, taking in her posture,
and his expression hardened with determination. "In a pig's eye!" Kirk
answered.
She blinked, unable to translate the idiom. "You will yield!" she
ordered, and launched herself at him.
Valdyr felt ashamed of her advantage. She doubted he would use the same
force on her as he'd been willing to use on the Klingon males. His
unwillingness to do that would allow her to conquer him, but she
wouldn't enjoy it. She was still thinking that when his fist hit her
cheek with stunning force.
Her head snapped back harshly, and she growled as blood poured from the
corner of her lip. Drawing back, she landed a powerful right to his jaw,
and he staggered. She moved to follow it through with a left, but he
blocked the blow. Kirk brought his hand down in a hard chop at her neck,
but she dodged and it landed ineffectively on her leather shoulder pad.
Bringing the heel of her hand up under his chin, she snapped his head
back with the force of the blow. Kirk grunted and went down.
Before he'd even finished landing, however, he'd scissored his legs
between hers and knocked her to the deck. He landed on her roughly,
struggling to get a grip on her hair and slam her head against the
deckplates. Swinging her legs up, she flipped both of them end over end,
then straddled him. "Yield, human!" she bellowed, and struck him hard in
the face. His head cracked against the floor, he gave a sigh, and his
eyes rolled up.
Valdyr eased off her prisoner carefully, fully aware that he might be
feigning unconsciousness. Klingon boots thundered down the hall, and
when she looked up, Karg, Treegor, the two crewmen, and her uncle were
there, their eyes moving between the unconscious human on the floor and
her. She was panting and sweating over him, the blood from her lip
dripping puce droplets onto her armor.
Raging, Karg snarled, "Let me kill this Ha'dlbah now!" and lunged for
the helpless body.
"You will not!" Valdyr heard herself shout as she thrust herself between
them, shoving the warrior back roughly.
He moved on her, but by then her dagger was out of its sheath and in
front of his face. He paused. Valdyr's warrior blood was coursing
through her now. "Is this how a Kiingon
warrior kills his enemy?" she taunted her betrothed. "Waits until he's
helpless and kills him in his sleep? Is that your path to honor, Karg?"
No one in the corridor moved. Karg's face flamed with shame. Valdyr was
surprised when her uncle said nothing, merely stared at her
reflectively.
Treegot grumbled at her, "This human is not worthy to be our enemy. He
is a parasite, brought down by a woman. He deserves no
honorable
consideration."
"Be careful, Treegor," she warned. "This human brought you down with one
blow, and outfought and outwitted the rest of you. He did that after a
long fast and in a weakened state. He has earned the respect due a
warrior."
Without another word, she sheathed her dagger. Then, reaching down, she
grabbed the unconscious human by the wrists, hauled him up, and slung
him over her shoulder.
Valdyr struggled not to stagger; Kirk was heavier than he looked, but
she could not afford to show weakness in front of this group now.
"Valdyr," said Kamarag quietly, "where are you taking him?"
"To the prison cell you have prepared for him," she said, managing to
speak clearly in spite of her burden. "I will take him in the aircar we
brought. He is my prisoner, is he not?
He needs medical attention, and possibly force-feeding.
Your orders on the matter of his care were very clear."
"Do ... you not wish help?" Kamarag asked.
"Do you think I need it?" she challenged, meeting his eyes.
He raised his head as if insulted, but when Karg attempted to speak, he
held up his hand to silence the warrior.
Karg looked outraged. "No," Kamarag said quietly. "I do not think you
need help." And with a gesture that was almost a salute, he permitted
her to leave.
As Valdyr stumped toward the airlock with her heavy burden, she heard