Star Trek - Sarek
Page 40
Your military vessels are housed in underground shelters to keep them
safe from meteors that gouge your world. How many of you have lost loved
ones to the meteors? Is that the way warriors want to die? Being struck
by veq from the sky?"
Peter realized that his uncle, the doctor, and Spock were staring at
him. Even the captain and McCoy, who were probably hearing him over the
Universal Translators they carried, seemed impressed. Several of the
soldiers looked uncomfortable, glancing at Karg guiltily as if wondering
what they were all doing there in the first place.
"Azetbur is working with the Federation to guarantee you a future,"
Peter reminded the Klingons. "She's not dwelling on the past, like this
qoh"--he pointed at Kargm"who thinks that he can make the past into the
future, when anyone who raises his eyes can see that is impossible!
Azetbur, like yourselves, looks up at the sky and reads what is written
there--change. Change and continued life for Klingons and Qo'nos! Your
chancellor wants to make sure there is a future for all Klingonsmnot
just the wealthy ones who can hide in the fortresses, and not worry
about what falls from the sky. Your chancellor is loyal to the people of
Qo'nos--and she needs your loyalty in return. Do not betray her!"
It wasn't a bad speech, Peter realized. He suspected that he had more
than one convert in the crowd.
"Listen to him!" aldyr implored. "You heard from Treegor how he can
fight! He defeated two Klingon warriors at once! Peter Kirk is a
warrior, like yourselves. He speaks from his heart."
"Silence, you lain be7" Karg snarled, and swung a vicious blow at her
face.
Before Peter could react, Valdyr blocked the blow and slammed an elbow
into Karg's midsection, under his breastplate.
Then she punched him hard in the face with the back of her own fist,
making his nose spout blood.
Karg never released the grip on her hair. Enraged, he swore violently
and, in a blur, yanked his dagger out of his belt and stabbed the woman
viciously in the gut, twisting the knife and drawing it up as hard as he
could befor e yanking it out.
Valdyffs eyes widened, but she didn't cry out. Instead, she spat
directly in Karg's face. Blinded, he released her, and stepped back.
Valdyr's eyes rolled up and she crumpled to the ground, her hands folded
over the wound. Blood gushed through her fingers.
The Klingon soldiers seemed stunned by Karg's action, as though they
could not believe that their commander could be so foolish as to kill
Kamarag's own niece.
Peter screamed "NOW and bolted to Valdyr's side, barely realizing that
McCoy moved with him, some medical diagnostic tool already in his hand.
"Valdyr! Valdyr!" the cadet shouted as McCoy swung the tool around,
recalibrated it, swung it again, muttering wildly to himself.
She can't be dead.t he thought frantically.
The Klingon woman's eyes fluttered feebly, finally opened. The dark
light in her eyes was dim, barely focused.
"Pityr ..."
"Valdyr! Hold on! Fight like the warrior you are! Don't give in!"
"Pityr ... ? You must flee ... "
"Valdyr, listen. You'll be okay, just listen. Oh God, Doctor, do
something! Valdyr ... you've got to live. You've got to! I love you,
Valdyr. Do you hear me? I love you!"
A smile flickered across her face, revealing crooked teeth as McCoy
fumbled in his medical kit. He found a hypo, adjusted it, then pressed
it against her neck. "You love me?" she gasped. "This is true?"
"It's true, I swear it before all Qo'nos. I love you."
She nodded. "We cannot weep. But we can love, Pityr.
You are my mate. With you I would take the vow. I love you, too." Then
her eyes closed again, and her head rolled to the side. McCoy cursed
vehemently and gave her something else.
"Bonest' the captain asked softly.
McCoy shook his head, but continued working feverishly.
Peter felt every emotion he'd suffered through and repressed well up in
him and explode in a blinding rage. He touched the blood still seeping
through her locked fingers, then enclosed it in his fist. Clenching his
teeth in fury and bitter sorrow, he slowly rose ... and turned toward
Karg.
"Son, wait," his uncle warned quietly, but Peter ignored him.
Taking a step toward the Klingon, he thrust out his fist, still dripping
with Valdyr's blood, and growled, in Klingonese, "One of you who still
possesses a warrior's honor, give me a dagger, so I may deal with this
traitor who has no pretense to honor left him--to attack an unarmed
fernale.t"
"You would challenge me?" Karg asked him incredulously, shifting the
dagger that still gleamed with Valdyr's blood.
"It is his right," Malak said, stepping forward. "Valdyr has named him
her mate." The soldier removed the woman's dagger from his belt and
tossed it to Peter, who caught it by the hilt.
"It is a good day to die," Peter announced, smiling wolfishly as he
advanced on the officer.
"Peter! No!" Jim shouted, lurching forward.
But Spock caught his captain by the arm before he could interfere,
saying quietly, "Jim. This is a cultural issue."
"Dammit, Spock," Kirk growled.
"It is Peter's choice," Spock reminded him.
Karg charged the young man, his dagger extended. Peter deflected it, and
punched the Klingon hard in the eye with the fist that held Valdyr's
knife. With a second swipe, he opened a shallow cut on the Klingon's
corrugated forehead.
It bled freely. Karg howled, and his eye began to swell and close, even
as the blood dripped down, further blinding him.
Peter spun around the warrior, the small blade licking out, caressing
him as delicately as a lover, nicking his ear.
Flick ... and Valdyr's dagger scored the back of Karg's gauntleted
hand. Flick ... now his cheek was laid open.
The small cuts humiliated the warrior, enraging him past all caution.
Karg lurched forward, stabbing blindly, as Peter
danced out of the way, leaving a razor-thin line of blood along the
Klingon's neck.
The officer recovered himself slightly, holding back, and when Peter
came in again, he sliced the cadet's arm. The human ignored the wound,
though it burned like fire, and, flick--this time the little dagger cut
the small leather strap that held the right side of Karg's armor close
to his body.
The armor flapped annoyingly now, distracting the warrior.
Roaring with rage, he charged the rapidly moving human, but Peter
stepped aside like a matador, and, as he did so, he chopped his fist
down on the Klingon's bull-like neck, deadening the nerves in his arm,
nearly causing Karg to drop his dagger. He aimed a powerful kick at the
soldier's midsection, but Karg was ready, and blocked, numbing his foot
and halfway up his leg.
Limping, Peter staggered out of range, then came back in, and landed a
ringing blow to Karg's chin, making his head snap back. The Klingon's
teeth clacked shut, and blood suddenly poured from his mouth
. Before he
could recover, Peter grabbed the healthy mass of hair that was a Klingon
warrior's pride.
"We humans call this 'death by humiliation,'" he whispered in his
enemy's ear. "Think of it as return payment for the way you abused
Valdyr." With a swift flash of her wicked blade, he severed most of the
long hair from Karg's head.
Behind them, he could hear the other Klingons laugh uproariously.
Karg went wild, bellowing and swearing as he charged the human. Peter
sidestepped him, and clubbed him hard where his neck and back joined.
Karg's eyes rolled up, and he fell heavily, face forward, onto the
pavement, then lay unmoving, unconscious. Peter, his rage still unspent,
hovered over the body, sweating, heaving for air. He wanted Karg to get
up, again and again, so that he could beat him to a bloody pulp--then
slice him like a holiday roast.
"Kill him, young Kirk!" Malak urged. "It is your right. He will have no
honor left to him, if you let him live."
No one moved as Peter shifted Valdyr's blade and stared at the back of
the unconscious soldier.
Then a weak, tremulous voice cut the air. "Pityr ..." He blinked, looked
around, saw Valdyr lying on the pavement, with McCoy still working on
her. Her eyes were half-open, her bloody hand raised slightly, beckoning
him.
"Dammit, man!" McCoy snapped at him. "Will you get yourself over here
before she burns up the little reserves she has left tryin' to get your
attention!"
Peter glanced up at Malak. "Karg doesn't deserve any honor. He's a
traitor, a man who brutalizes those who are weaker than he is. Let him
live with the shame of his defeat." He left the unconscious Klingon and
moved to Valdyr's side.
He took her hand as she whispered in a thin voice, "You fought for me?"
"And won," he said slipping her dagger back in its place.
"With your knife."
"My warrior ..." she whispered, and lost consciousness again.
As the Klingon woman slipped back into unconsciousness, McCoy continued
to work on the hideous wound in her abdomen. He worked swiftly with the
tiny electronic microcautery, but she had lost so much blood already!
Jim and Spock drew near the fallen woman. "Bones, will she make it?"
The doctor never looked up, never lost his focus. But before he could
answer, a harsh, accented Klingon voice called out, "This is the man who
killed Chancellor Gorkon?" McCoy glanced up, saw one of the soldiers
pointing at him.
"Now he will kill Kamarag's niece!"
"Not bloody likely," McCoy swore. "I'm not going' to let her die."
The shame of that failure still burned within him. The fact that the
chancellor's death had caused him--and his best friend--to be sent to
that hellhole Rura Penthe was bad enough ... but really, it was the
death of Gorkon himself that upset McCoy. He had never before lost a
patient because of his own lack of knowledge. Working on the chancellor
for those few, futile moments had been the
blackest point in his entire career. To struggle to save a dying man ...
and know so little about his most rudimentary needs ... First, do no
harm, the law of healers said, the law that ruled McCoy's life. After
Rura Penthe, he'd sworn that would never happen to him again. Not ever.
Ignoring the soldier's insult, he focused on his patient.
"In the time since the chancellor's death," Spock suddenly said,
addressing the crowd, "Dr. McCoy has studied Klingon physiology
extensively. He is completely qualified to assist this woman."
The warriors did not seem mollified. Then Malak stepped forward. "It is
well known that Vulcans do not lie."
Does everyone still believe that load of horse-puckey?
McCoy wondered, sealing the wound, and packing it with a sterile,
inflatable foam from a small container in his kit.
The doctor noticed Spock's expression change, as if he suddenly realized
what an opening he'd just been given.
"Warriors, know this," the Vulcan intoned. "You serve Kamarag loyally,
yet even Kamarag does not know that the plans he has made have been
influenced by the mind of an alien. Kamarag's thoughts and plans are not
his own--he is little more than a puppet."
The Klingons all looked at one another, then at Malak, who seemed
stunned.
"Why else would Kamarag," Spock continued, pressing his advantage,
"after three years of silence, suddenly concoct this plan to kidnap
Peter Kirk and lure James Kirk to his death, when James Kirk himself was
responsible for saving Azetbur's life? Did none of you question
Kamarag's motives? Did none of you question his plans to commit treason?
Did none of you question the lack of honor in his scheme?"
Malak answered for the group. "We did have questions, the same questions
Valdyr had from the beginning. But we are loyal to Kamarag's house, as
our families have been for generations. Now I look at what it has
brought us, and I have no answers. We have lost some of our brothers,
and have been forced to kill warriors we had no feud with." He
gestured back at the dead soldiers that had been protecting their ship.
"If we can g et off Qo'nos, and meet with Kamarag," Spock explained, "we
hope to prove to him how he has been influenced, and sway him from his
course."
Malak nodded. "Vulcans do not lie, so I believe you." He looked down at
McCoy. "Do you believe you can save Valdyr?"
McCoy wiped the sweat beading on his brow. "I've got her stabilized ...
barely. If I could get her to the Enterprise, to our sickbay ..."
"Take her," Malak said, startling the doctor. These fierce-looking
warriors were actually going to let them go? Malak looked at Captain
Kirk and Spock. "Take the bird-of-prey.
If you can outrun those who will surely come after you, do so. Save
Valdyr. And, if you can, save Kamarag. Then I will have done my duty to
my lord." He turned to his men, as if waiting for a challenge, but none
came.
"Can we move her?" Peter asked McCoy. The boy's face was nearly white
with worry.
"Carefully," McCoy warned, worried that any sharp motion would reopen
some of those bleeders.
Spock leaned down and asked, "Shall IT' Gratefully, McCoy nodded,
watching protectively as the Vulcan gently lifted the unconscious woman
and stood up with her cradled in his arms.
McCoy trotted alongside Spock as they all headed for the small warbird.
"Spock," Peter said, "I can override the lock, but I'll need your
tricorder." At the Vulcan's nod, Peter unfastened the device from around
Spock's waist, then made himself busy with the lock that would extrude
the gangplank. His fingers flashed over the controls of his tricorder as
he searched for the proper sequence. Suddenly there was a soft thunk;
then, with a hiss of pressurized air, the ramp extended out and down.
Kirk was in the lead, already heading for the ship's bridge.
"Put her here, Spock," McCoy directed the Vulcan, and
the science officer lowered Valdyr onto a padded seat set back away from
the tiny bridge, then went
forward. McCoy crouched beside the woman,
checking her wound and reading his diagnostic tool. Everything had held.
The wound was secure. McCoy glanced around the tiny cabin.
Wouldn't this ship have its own medikit, with Klingon-specific drugs and
equipment?
"How bad is it?" Peter asked, his eyes searching the older man's face.
McCoy hesitated. Finally, he admitted, "There's a lot of internal
damage, but, Peter, with her spirit ... if anyone can make it with this
much damage, I'd say she can." Peter nodded, and tried to smile wanly.
McCoy looked up to see Jim hovering over his nephew's shoulder.
"We're going to need you up front, Peter," the captain ordered.
"Aye, sir," the cadet responded and, with a final glance back at Valdyr
and McCoy, moved up to the bridge.
Good, thought the doctor, get him out of my hair so I can get some real
work done.
Peter watched his uncle Jim swing himself into the pilot's seat and
begin powering up the ship. Spock, to Peter's surprise, elected to take
the gunner's seat, leaving the navigation console to the cadet.
Moments later, the tiny shuttle lifted off and swooped upward. Peter