by Diane Duane
Moving silently, Valdyr slipped into her uncle’s favorite study. Once inside, she stood perfectly still, waiting, listening, but there was no one, not even a serving woman.
Valdyr was nearly overcome by memories once she stood inside the cavernous chamber. Every kind of ancient armament hung from its walls, as well as paintings and tapestries of the finest warriors of their family’s lines. Her father had brought his children here every summer, and the compound and this place, in particular, called up vivid memories of him. Valdyr stared at the images of long-dead heroes and remembered her father’s thrilling tales of their exploits. How she’d longed to be like them! Her gaze fixed on the portrait of a woman, her many times great-grandmother who had fought at her husband’s side in so many decisive battles hundreds of years ago. That image had always been her favorite. She gazed upon it now, knowing she would never see it once she left here.
Then, so be it.
Moving to the computer that appeared so out of place in this ancient hall, she paused for one last moment before using the private code of her dead father to activate this link with the outside world. Then she sent a carefully composed message to Brigadier Kerla, consort to Chancellor Azetbur. Her father had served under Kerla many years ago, before he was promoted and sent to serve with Kruge. Her father and Kerla had been good friends, trusted allies.
Valdyr knew Azetbur trusted Kerla as well. She would have to take a chance with him. The message, at first, would seem like a normal piece of correspondence. She had to make sure that it would be sent through the relays, that no one would pay it any mind and stop it on its journey. The relays would slow it down, she knew, but she could think of no other way to insure that Brigadier Kerla would receive it. She was, after all, only the daughter of a dead hero, only the niece of an ambassador. Perhaps her father’s name would take her message to Kerla’s hands. If it did not, than Peter, his uncle, and Valdyr herself were all doomed.
Peter lay on the stone bench, reading and trying to keep his eyes from staring at the vacant glass portal. The waiting was becoming unbearable. Would Uncle Jim really just give himself up to Kamarag? He couldn’t! He would know kidnappers never live up to their promises, especially a kidnapper as crazed as Kamarag. Peter sighed, trying not to wear himself out worrying over a situation he could do nothing about.
He heard the slightest click, and his gaze snapped to the portal, but no one was there. Another click followed, and Peter was on his feet instantly. It was happening. They were coming to take him…to Valdyr. Uncle Jim had actually done it, given himself up. His mind raced wildly.
His door swung open, and Valdyr entered, pointing a wicked-looking Klingon hand disrupter at him. So, she’d had to come for him herself. Boy, these people did nothing to make things easier, did they?
“Are you ready?” she demanded.
He stood up straight. “Yes. I’m ready.”
With a quick flip of her wrist she tossed the disrupter at him. He snatched it clumsily, then stared at the weapon in his hand. He realized she was holding a small crossbow by her side. “What’s going on?” he whispered.
“Shhhh,” she warned him, then stuck her head out the door, looking both ways. “Be prepared to use that. We have a long, dangerous journey ahead of us. You must stay close to me, Pityr.”
He grinned. “Try and stop me.”
They moved quickly through endless, ancient stone corridors in stealthy silence, and the whole time he hadn’t a clue as to their destination.
After a good fifteen minutes of climbing dark, winding staircases, and tiptoeing down long unused hallways, Valdyr finally halted. Turning to him, she pressed her mouth against his ear and whispered, “Now it becomes difficult.”
Now?he thought, and stared at her.
“To leave the dungeons is easy if you take the back passageways,” she explained quietly. “They are no longer used. But to enter the secret tunnels, you must go through the heart of the compound. We will have to be even more cautious. And we must be ready to fight.”
“I’m ready,” he assured her. “Lead the way.”
She opened the antique door cautiously, indicating that he should wait behind in the stairwell. He watched her through a crack in the wood as she stepped into a spacious, well-lighted hallway. She had just begun to signal him to follow her when two burly Klingons rounded a corner. She froze, as he did.
“Valdyr!” one of them said to her congenially. “Karg has been looking for you. He wishes you to join him at the midday meal. You’d better hurry.”
She stiffened and frowned. “And because Karg wishes it, Malak, I am to obey? I am no trainedtarg, and I take no backhand summons from my uncle’s pet.” Her tone dripped contempt.
Peter rolled his eyes, unable to believe that she was going to get into a row with these two apes now. But the guard merely laughed, apparently enjoying her display of spirit.
“I told him you would not listen to me, Valdyr,” Malak agreed, “but I, too, must do as I am bid by my commander.”
Suddenly the soldier with him sniffed. “Do you smell something?”
Malak tested the air and looked thoughtful.
Damn it!Peter swore silently. He hadn’t had a real bath in over a week, and his sponge baths, no matter how thorough, were a poor substitute.Besides, you’re a human. You smell as different to them as they do to you.
Before Malak could answer, Valdyr sneered, “Who could smell anything while Karg walks these halls?”
Malak laughed again. “Oh, Valdyr, you were always a terror. I miss serving with your brother. If Karg were wise, he’d seek another wife. Make things easy for yourself and hurry along. You might still get a choice cut of meat. Come, Darj, we have work to do.”
The laughing soldiers moved on, but Peter could see Darj looking about the hall, as if trying to find the source of the odor he’d detected. Valdyr watched them for a few minutes, then yanked open the door.
“Hurry, there is no time! Karg will come looking for me if I do not answer his summons shortly.” Clutching his sleeve, she towed him through the hallway. Finally, she stood before a huge piece of furniture. She peered around behind it, then glanced at Peter, as if assessing his size. “The passageway is behind this closet. I think you are thin enough…. ”
“Iknew I smelled something foul!” an angry voice said behind them.
They spun, and Peter found himself facing Darj. He was alone, holding a weapon on both of them. He glanced at Valdyr, who was still half behind the closet, half exposed. There was no way they could pretend she was just “moving the prisoner.” Their attempt to escape was plain.
“Malak thinks little of his commander,” Darj said, moving carefully around them. “Fortunately for Karg, I am loyal! Malak will be demoted, but if he’s fortunate, he’ll be allowed to live. You two, however, will not have that privilege. Valdyr, move away from that closet, now.”
“Certainly, Darj,” she said demurely, surrendering. She stepped away from the massive wooden piece, revealing the crossbow held firmly in her right hand. She fired at the same instant, and the quarrel buried itself deep in the soldier’s throat.
Darj collapsed heavily, gurgling, then lay still. Before Peter could react, Valdyr snatched up the soldier’s weapon and pocketed it, then rifled through his uniform. She shoved several small items into the pouch she wore on her belt; then she began tugging the heavy body toward the closet. “Help me!” she gasped, and Peter, who’d been standing there, stunned—he’d never seen anyone killed before—jumped to obey.
“Into the closet,” she ordered, and the two of them wrestled the heavy body inside the massive wooden structure. “This way!” she snapped, and he followed her as she squeezed behind the heavy furniture.
In back of the old wooden object was a small door that opened inward. Valdyr pulled out an ornate iron key, and unlocked the secret door. It slid open easily. And then they were inside, the door shut securely behind them. Peter stood stock-still, in total darkness. If she abandoned him here…<
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A light flared and he winced at the sudden brightness. Valdyr was in front of him, holding a tiny but powerful lantern. “We will be safe for a while now. The only one who knows these passages is my uncle, and he is not here. Karg knows nothing of them…the fool can search the entire compound and never find us. And even if they find Darj’s body and discover this passageway, by that time we will be deeply into the hidden chambers.”
She started moving along the narrow tunnel, and Peter followed her. “But how long can we stay here?” he wondered.
“We only need to stay until dark,” she explained. “Then, we can follow the tunnels, and leave the compound.”
“You mean these passageways will actually take usoutside this fortress?”
“That’s correct. They were built hundreds of years ago, and have been used by entire armies during local conflicts and feuds. There are dozens of warrens and chambers, enough to hide an entire squadron of soldiers. We will be safe…until we leave. Once outside the compound we must try to reach the spaceport—but by then Darj will surely be missed, and your escape discovered. They will be searching for us.”
They moved swiftly through the tunnels, saying little, as Valdyr guided them to safety. Finally, she ushered him into a small, cozy chamber, then set about lighting battery-powered lamps that hung on the wall. “This place had always been special to my oldest brother and myself. We used to play war in these tunnels, and hide from our nurses down here.” She moved over to a narrow bed, her only furniture in the room, and sat down. “We spent hours down here, making up stories, planning our futures…. ”
Peter remembered her speaking of her brother’s death. “You must miss him.”
She nodded. “He was a lot like my father. He treated me more like a little brother than a sister.” She looked about the dimly lit chamber. “It is almost as if I can feel his spirit here…. ”
Peter watched as her eyes moved around the room. She had just killed one of her countrymen. She was giving up everything in her life to do this for him. He didn’t know what to say to her. “I…wish I could’ve known your brother. I would like to think…we could’ve found a common ground…. ”
She turned to him. “My brother and father would approve of what I’m doing. They would know I’m fighting for Qo’noS, for the future of all Klingon people.”
Peter nodded. “I’m sure they would. You’ve chosen a very difficult path, Valdyr—much more difficult than armed combat. You bring honor to their memory.”
They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes. Finally, she said, “I have sent a message to Azetbur. Once she receives it…”
“When did you send it?” he asked, interested. “What did it say?”
She explained about sending the message to her father’s old friend, Brigadier Kerla, and how she had addressed and phrased it cautiously, so it would go through the channels without being intercepted. “However, I know that will slow it down. I cannot say how long it will take before Azetbur will even see it.”
Peter thought she was being optimistic. Realistically, it could be hours before the thing even got into the hands of this Kerla, assuming some well-meaning staff member didn’t misinterpret it and delay it even further. “When the chancellor finds out what you’ve done, she will surely reward you.”
Valdyr looked away, her expression grim. “I have betrayed my family. She may personally be grateful, but…family honor is very important to our people. There will be no rewards for what I’ve done. I expect to be outcast…you would say, homeless, shunned…when this is over. But I will have my own personal honor. No one can take that from me. Not Karg. Not Kamarag. No one.”
He admired her obstinate courage. “Valdyr…I want to thank you for helping me. And as long as I live, you will always have a place inmy family…for whatever that’s worth.”
She looked at him, her expression shocked. “You would accept me in your family? And how would your people feel about that, a Klingon woman coming to them? What of your uncle—he hates us. How will he feel about this?”
“My uncle is fair,” Peter insisted. “The tragedy of Gorkon’s death changed the way he regards your people. He is as close to me as you were to your father. I assure you, my uncle would welcome any warrior as brave as you into our family.”
“Then I hope we all live long enough to meet, Pityr. I have heard much of this James Kirk. It would be interesting to face him and see if the man and legend are the same.”
Peter started to smile when a mark on her neck caught his eye. He squinted. It was a terrible-looking bruise. He touched it gently. “What happened, Valdyr? How did you get this?”
She flinched and moved away, so he pulled his hand back, fearing he’d been too familiar. She looked away, and he thought he could see her color darkening in the chamber’s muted light. “It is just…” she began hesitantly. “It is nothing…. ”
Then he realized. “Karg did this to you.” His voice was low as he tried to suppress the outrage he felt. “That’s what happened, isn’t it? This is from Karg.”
She turned, met his gaze defiantly. “It is Karg’s mark. He marked me so everyone would know to whom I belonged. I fought him, but he’s…too strong for me…. ”
Peter’s fury flared. “I’d love to have about ten minutes alone with that guy in a locked room,” he grumbled.
She watched him curiously. “This bothers you, Pityr, this mark from Karg?”
“Of course it bothers me!” he blurted. “He touched you against your will. No one should be allowed to do that.”
She actually laughed then, and the lightness of that sound startled him. “Oh, Pityr, you humans are unusually funny! If I were strong enough, I could keep Karg in his place—it might be a good marriage then—but because I am small, he has all the advantage.”
“It shouldn’t have anything to do with strength, Valdyr,” he argued. “You should only be touched when you choose to be, and by whom you choose to be.”
“I see. And because Karg forced his touch on me, you are angry with me about this?” she asked.
“Of course I’m not angry withyou! I’m furious atKarg.”
“Furious enough…to fight for me?” She asked the question so quietly, Peter instantly understood that the question meant more to her than its simplicity indicated.
He stared into her deep, dark eyes, realizing that this was the first interaction they’d been able to enjoy without having the viewing port between them since she’d first dumped him into his cell. They were together, here in this small room, with no one around, just the two of them. He swallowed, wanting to make sure he said just the right thing. “My people believe that fighting is the last resort, that there are always alternatives to violent confrontation…but…I must confess…that guy…Yes, Valdyr. If I had the chance, I would fight Karg for you.”
Her eyes widened as if she could not believe he’d actually said that. She looked as if she might say something, then hesitated, and finally murmured, “Pityr. What are…apricots?”
He blinked, momentarily confused. Then he remembered telling her that was how she smelled to him. He smiled. “They’re a delicious fruit from Earth. They’re only available a short time each year, so they’re highly prized. They have a wonderful perfume, and a bowl of them in the warm summer air will scent a whole room. My grandmother grew them and we couldn’t wait every year until they were ready to be eaten.”
“And…I have this same scent?”
“Yes…. ” He leaned closer and deliberately inhaled her odor. Moving slowly, for fear of shattering the mood between them, he touched her face, turning it to him, as he allowed his lips to graze her cheek lightly.
“What…are you doing?” she whispered, holding perfectly still.
“Kissing you,” he explained, pressing his mouth to the edge of her jaw, then the corner of her mouth. “Do Klingons kiss?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
He met her gaze unflinchingly. “What do you want? Do you want me to touch you?�
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“I want only one male on Qo’noS to touch me,” she admitted. He started to pull back slightly, afraid he’d misinterpreted her interest. “I want Pityr Kirk…ahuman! …and a warrior…to touch me!” She said it as if it amazed her.
Then, as if her confession suddenly granted Peter total freedom, he took the woman in his arms, armor and all, and pressed his mouth against hers.
The kiss began tenderly, but almost immediately it ignited all the stored-up emotion of his long days of captivity. Peter pulled Valdyr fiercely against him, and was aware of her arms coming up to encircle him with a strength he found exhilarating.“Hlja’!” she whispered, between kisses. “MevQo’,Pityr…”
There was no way in hell hecould stop.
Finally, when they pulled away, she laughed and bit his chin hard. He yelped and bit her back. And in the next instant they fell upon the bunk, wrestling, yanking at each other’s clothing, rolling over and over in strenuous love-play that sent them crashing to the floor, laughing, biting, tussling. Finally, he landed on his back, Valdyr straddling him, pinning his shoulders to the ground.
“I like this way of kissing. You will teach me this human kissing, Pityr Kirk!” she demanded before dissolving in laughter again.
He heaved her up and tossed her off him, rolling over to pin her down this time. “I will teach you this human kissing, Valdyr-oy. And you will teach me…?” He had no idea what to ask for.
She touched his cheek, her eyes glimmering. “Everything, Pityr-oy. I will teach you everything.”
He leaned down and began their lessons….
“Ambassador Sarek?” Commander Uhura’s voice was as cool and professional as usual, but there was an underlying note of tension in it that made the Vulcan raise an eyebrow as he activated the intercom in his cabin.