by Diane Duane
“Valdyr, no!” Peter yelled, and lurched after her, but Jim grabbed him roughly by the arm.
“She’s bought us the time we need!” Jim told him. “We can’t go up against that firepower with three phasers! Now come on, we’ve got to get that ship!”
“She’ll be killed!” Peter argued. “I’m not leaving her!”
“Spock,” the captain ordered.
“Peter, please,” the Vulcan said quietly, taking the cadet’s arm in a formidable grip, “I would regret being forced to carry you to safety.”
McCoy was peering out the doorway at the ensuing melee of soldiers firing at each other. Disrupters whined and crackled. “Time, gentlemen!”
The captain stuck his head out the door to confirm McCoy’s diagnosis. “You’ve got Peter, Spock?”
“Yes, Captain.”
Peter stared at the Vulcan, calculating his chances at pulling away from the taciturn science officer without leaving his arm behind. Uncle Jim, McCoy, and Spock left the guardhouse at a dead run, and Peter had to either move his feet or be dragged. Pulling back as much as possible against the Vulcan’s immovable strength, he turned his head, straining to see Valdyr, but it was impossible to pick her small frame out from the mass of huge, fighting men. If he left her this way, he knew he’d never see her again. He’d never be able to live with himself, either.
“Spock!” he implored. “They’llkill her!”
The Vulcan’s expression softened just slightly, but he didn’t slow down. “Once we’re aboard the ship we may be able to effect her rescue.”
Peter told himself that Vulcans never lie, and prayed that the old saying was true.
He heard the disrupter fire cease, and looked back at the mob of Klingons. He was shocked to see a number of bodies sprawled on the ground, dead, and realized that the remaining soldiers, as a group, had turned and were staring, and pointing, at them.
Spock saw it, too. “That is, if we get to the ship…”
A loud voice Peter recognized as Karg’s suddenly shouted, “HALT, HUMANS!”
“We can make it!” Kirk insisted, as they drew closer to the ship.
“Halt, now!” shouted Karg again. “Or, we will kill this femalemaghwl’!” A jolt of disrupter fire charged the air, blasting the ground a few meters in front of Peter and Spock. The next blast nearly took off McCoy’s leg.
Spock stopped running, and, even so, they nearly piled into McCoy, who had skidded to an abrupt halt. “Jim!” the doctor bellowed. “Stop, dammit! They’ve got our range!”
The captain halted, and turned, his face grim and set.
The combined group of soldiers closed the gap between them. As they did, Peter shook his arm where Spock still gripped him. “Spock! Let me go!”
Spock stared at the cadet. “If I do, you will do nothing foolish?”
Peter hesitated.
Spock’s eyebrow went up; then he sighed, loudly. “Never mind. It was a poor choice of words. You are, after all, a Kirk.” He released the human’s arm.
“They killed the ship’s crew, her maintenance staff,” McCoy murmured in a shocked tone.
Peter’s heart sank. And now Karg had them all, Valdyr, himself…his Uncle Jim. The cadet decided he must be some kind of bad-luck hex. After all, Uncle Jim had gotten out of a million scrapes worse than thisbefore. As Karg drew near them, he could see he was towing Valdyr by the hair. She was unarmed. There was magenta blood splashed on her arm, and some smeared on her face, but he didn’t think any of it was hers.
“Won’t Kamarag be pleased!” Karg gloated as the soldiers drew abreast of them. “No doubt he’s having some trouble finding his quarry in the immensity of space. When he returns, won’t he be impressed when we present him with not only James T. Kirk and his wretched kin, but also the gutless Vulcan computer and the butcher who calls himself a physician! You will all pay for your crimes against Qo’noS!”
Peter heard McCoy murmur a bitter, “Oh, brother…not again!”
“I have committed no crimes against Qo’noS,” the captain said, coolly. “I only came here to rescue my brother’s son, who is also innocent of any crime. Besides,” he added, “Chancellor Azetbur invited me to visit her world anytime after I saved her life at Khitomer.”
The watching troops stirred when they heard their chancellor mentioned, though Karg was undismayed by Kirk’s reference. The captain glanced around at the circle of armed Klingons. “Chancellor Azetbur knows nothing of your betrayal…yet,”the officer reminded them boldly. “If you abandon this scheme of Kamarag’s now, you can still save…”
“ChancellorAzetbur is ourenemy!” Karg bellowed furiously.
However, Peter noted that several of the soldiers shifted uneasily, glancing at each other surreptitiously. Others glanced around, uncomprehending, not understanding the captain because they didn’t speak English.
Peter studied them, an idea growing in the back of his mind. Perhaps not all of these men were totally committed to betraying their government. There came a time when even good soldiers had to question bad orders….
The cadet recognized one of them, Malak, and saw that he, particularly, seemed uncomfortable. In the harsh glow of the spotlighted landing field, he saw two gleaming weapons on Malak’s belt. One of the daggers was small…delicate. He had Valdyr’s blade.
Karg was still ranting. “That slut! Azetbur is apretender! She is…”
“Appointedby her father,” Peter said loudly in Klingonese, raising his voice to be heard over Karg’s baritone, “andratified by the Klingon High Command. She is nopretender, but the legal head of your Empire. Arightfully appointed head of state, who is working toward saving your planet!”
All eyes turned to him as, dramatically, he swung his hand overhead, pointing to the ring, the debris of Praxis that encircled Qo’noS. “It’s still there, isn’t it? It hasn’t gone away, has it? The symbol of your world’s inevitable demise. You all know that, without the help of the Federation, Qo’noS is doomed. Your military vessels are housed inunderground 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 byveQ 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 afuture,” Peter reminded the Klingons. “She’s not dwelling on the past, like thisqoH” —he pointed at Karg—“who thinks that he can make the past into the future, when anyone who raises his eyes cansee 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 forall Klingons—not 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!” Valdyr implored. “You heard from Treegor how he can fight! He defeated two Klingon warriors at once! Peter Kirkis a warrior, like yourselves. He speaks from his heart.”
“Silence, youlam be’!” 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 before yanking it out.
Valdyr’s 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 ownniece.
Peter screamed “NO!” 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!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.
“Bones?” 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 unarmedfemale!”
“Youwould challengeme?” Karg asked him incredulously, shifting the dagger that still gleamed with Valdyr’s blood.
“It is hisright,” 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 todie,” 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 isPeter’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 goin’ 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 ownlack 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 h
is 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 stillbelievethat 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 ofhonor 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.
