STAR TREK: TOS - Errand of Vengeance, Book Two - Killing Blow

by Kevin Ryan

  These are humans, not warriors, he reminded himself.

  “And no matter how much you want to, you can’t sit in your quarters and mope,” he said.

  Kell’s blood stirred. He knew what the human slang word “mope” meant. Not only did it not apply to him, it was impossible, no, unthinkable, for a Klingon. Of course, he could explain none of that to the human, even if Benitez could understand.

  “I have seen starbases before,” the Klingon said. Strictly speaking, that was true. He had spent a few days on a starbase before he was posted to the Enterprise. Yet he had made a point to venture out of his quarters as little as possible to minimize his risk of exposure.

  [53] “And it may be a long time before you see one again,” Benitez countered. “I can’t let you miss this.”

  “You cannot force me,” Kell said.

  “You are serious about this?” Benitez said.

  Finally, the human sees the obvious, Kell thought.

  Then Benitez did something that surprised the Klingon: He sat on the nearest of the two beds. Concern ran over the human’s face.

  “I didn’t know it was that bad,” Benitez said.

  The Klingon did not know where this was going, but he was immediately on his guard.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” the human asked.

  “No,” the Klingon replied.

  Benitez seemed to have come to a decision. “Fine, stay, but I can’t let you stay alone. I will be right here, if you want to talk.”

  The Klingon watched in horror as Benitez leaned back on the bed, making himself comfortable.

  “Flash, you’re not going to regret this,” Benitez said as they headed down the corridor.

  When they reached the transporter room, the rest of their squad was there, except for their squad leader, Sam Fuller. The new squad was made up of the survivors of the System 1324 incident.

  Ensign Jawer looked well. His burned hands were still pink and had a light bandage wrapped around each palm. Ensign Clark was no longer wearing her sling and seemed to be completely healed.

  Leslie Parrish looked ... well. She gave Benitez and Kell a polite smile and said, casually, “It will be a minute; Chief Brantley is swearing in a new squad of recruits.”

  [54] For a moment, no one spoke. They all knew that the officers inside were replacing one of the two squads lost on the last mission.

  Parrish’s expression gave no indication that their last exchange had been ... strained. Perhaps she has forgotten it already, Kell thought. He didn’t see how that was possible. His own blood was burning and roaring in his ears at the sight of her.

  Yet she turned away and resumed a conversation with her new partner, Ensign Sobel, who had been part of Chief Brantley’s squad when the battle against the Orions had begun.

  A moment later, Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Commander Giotto exited the transporter room. The captain nodded to the assembled squad and said, “Ensigns.”

  Then Chief Brantley came out with six new security officers. To Kell’s eyes, they looked impossibly soft and innocent. Looking around at his own squad, he saw warriors who had been tested in battle, who had prevailed against a foe that should have overwhelmed them.

  Did the recruits who just left have the same courage, the same strength in their blood? He could not believe that it was possible, yet he had seen humans do the impossible—over and over.

  What did that mean for the coming Klingon attack? Would the humans give the Klingon Defense Force a surprise?

  Not if he and the other Infiltrators who were spread throughout the Federation and Starfleet did their jobs well.

  When he had been training for this mission, he had asked one of his superiors why Klingons had to hide their true faces to defeat the Earthers. If the Empire was [55] truly more powerful—which no Klingon would dispute—why not face the Earthers directly?

  The response then had been that the Earthers’ own tendency toward deceit and treachery meant that the Klingons would have to adopt some of the enemy’s methods to win the coming battle. Ultimately, his instructor had reminded him of the Klingon proverb “The victor is always right.”

  At the time, the Klingon had accepted the explanation. He had heard many tales of Earther treachery during his training, as he had heard many tales of the vile Captain Kirk. He had reasoned that the Empire might even be able to teach the Earthers something of honor when the Federation was part of the Empire.

  Now Kell held none of his previous illusions. He had seen honor among humans. He had learned the truth about Captain Kirk, who was both honorable and brave, and now held Kell in an honor debt.

  Kell now questioned whether the Empire had the strength to defeat the Federation in open battle, or even if such a course was wise or honorable. Kahless taught, “It is better to have strong friends than strong enemies.”

  In his blood, he sensed that humans could make very powerful allies of the Empire and would make very poor subjects.

  While he knew he would do his duty, he was glad he would not have to do it today.

  Suddenly, Kell was glad that Benitez had pressured him to come to the starbase. He had fought with these people and he knew with certainty that they were the last friends he would have on this side of the River of Blood.

  [56] They entered the transporter room together and a moment later appeared on a transporter pad on the starbase. Outside the transporter room, they entered a wide and long corridor that had a large number of Starfleet and civilian personnel going back and forth.

  Predictably, Benitez spoke first. “Okay, where to?”

  What followed was what seemed like an endless discussion of the possibilities for recreation and shopping. Most of the group, including Kell himself, wanted to get a drink.

  “If you want to find ale, go to a bar,” he said.

  The rest of the group was silent for a moment.

  “That’s what I like about you, Flash,” Benitez said. “You don’t say much but when you do you get right to the heart of the matter.”

  “There’s the Starfleet canteen,” Ensign Clark suggested.

  Ensign Sobel spoke up. “Apparently, there’s a great place in the civilian sector.”

  Clark shook her head. “According to the liberty guidelines, we are supposed to—”

  “The key word there is guidelines,” Benitez interjected. “And guidelines are not regulations.”

  “It is decided,” the Klingon said.

  “Lead on,” Benitez said to Ensign Sobel.

  Twenty minutes later they approached a nondescript door with a sign above it in an alien script that Kell did not recognize.

  “It’s Vulcan,” Benitez offered. “It means ‘party.’ ”

  “A Vulcan bar?” Kell asked.

  “It’s not run by Vulcans. I think the name is supposed to be a joke,” Sobel said, stepping forward.

  [57] The doors slid open and revealed something that the Klingon did not think could exist within the flat gray institutional construction of the starbase.

  It was impossible to tell the color of the walls, because it was simply too dark. There was a long bar on one wall, with tables strewn haphazardly around the center. The far wall was a huge window overlooking space.

  A large human civilian stopped the group with a raised hand. A short animated conversation erupted between Ensign Sobel and the human. Then the man lowered his hand and they were allowed to pass.

  The group made their way to the bar.

  Inside, the Klingon could see some of the patrons. They were a motley collection of races. He saw civilian Andorians, Tellarites, and a number of others he did not recognize.

  “This is what the Federation is all about,” Ensign Sobel said.

  “Drunken rabble?” the Klingon replied.

  Sobel smiled. “You see drunken rabble and I see many different people and cultures coming together to form one group of—”

  “Drunken rabble,” Benitez offered, breaking out into laughter.

  It was
early in the day, so they were able to find enough open space at the bar for all of them.

  Before they reached the bar, he heard Jawer’s voice call out, “Now, there is a beautiful sight.”

  Everyone turned to see what he was looking at, and the Klingon saw the Enterprise hanging in space. The Klingon had to admit that the lines of the ship were graceful and it had a compelling long-legged beauty. He [58] also knew that warriors in the Klingon Defense Force derided the design, but Kell knew that the vessel contained strength that would surprise any Klingon battle cruiser that faced it.

  At the bar, Ensign Sobel announced, “The first round is on me. How does Romulan ale sound?”

  Ensign Clark frowned. “That is not only against liberty guidelines, it is against Starfleet regulations and illegal.”

  “Do you want one?” Sobel asked.

  “Only if it’s aged,” Clark replied seriously.

  Nodding, Ensign Sobel began speaking to the bartender, a male Trill. The conversation was loud and animated.

  The Klingon took the time to survey the bar. Reflexively he noted the most dangerous species and mentally reviewed the best fighting techniques to use against each. It was then he noticed that there were very few humans in the bar, and his squad was the only one wearing Starfleet uniforms.

  Turning back to the bar, Kell saw that Sobel and the bartender were still ... negotiating. Then he saw a Klingon trader approach the bar. In his surprise, he could not help staring, suddenly sure that the fellow Klingon would recognize and expose him.

  Turning away before the Klingon caught his stare and answered the challenge he would have seen in it, Kell focused on Benitez. But his roommate was turning toward the Klingon. Then the human did something that shocked Kell.

  In clear Klingon, Benitez looked directly at the trader and said, “nutlhej SuvwI’ ”—or, in English, “A warrior is among us.”

  [59] For a moment, Kell was certain that Benitez was an Infiltrator, like Kell himself.

  The Klingon trader was automatically alert and shouted, “nuq DaneH?” Or “What do you want?” in English. As he spoke, the Klingon leaned closer to Benitez, who responded in heavily accented Klingon with, “ngem lopwI’ vIrI’.” Or, in English, “I greet a forest reveler.”

  Then Kell understood. Benitez was no Infiltrator; he was merely a human with a bit of Klingon language and terrible pronunciation.

  Though Kell was relieved, the Klingon was suddenly enraged and reached out with both hands to push Benitez toward the bar. The human was caught by surprise and then had his back pressed to the bar.

  “Hey, hey,” Benitez protested. “I was just saying hello.”

  Clearly, Benitez did not know how much danger he was in, but Kell did, and he acted immediately.

  Grabbing the Klingon by the shoulder, he executed a move that was more than a push but less than a throw. Pulling the trader to him, he pushed out with his hip and stepped forward. The result was that the Klingon was forced off Benitez and Kell was now between them.

  The Klingon trader’s face betrayed his own surprise. Yet, he was able to strike a clumsy blow in Kell’s direction. Kell deflected the blow easily but restrained himself from striking back, yet. A full-scale brawl would present too many dangers to his mission. There were too many ways for him to be exposed.

  “Stop!” Kell shouted to the Klingon.

  The trader responded with a string of Klingon expletives, and another blow.

  [60] Kell blocked the blow and gave the Klingon a hard shove backward. He realized at once that the Klingon was untrained. He would be depressingly easy to best, and Kell realized that he could have taken the trader when he was a child.

  “wa’ luHIv jav ’e’ lumaS tera’ nuchpu’ net Sov”—“Six against one, typical cowardly Earther odds,” the trader said in Klingon, and Kell realized two things simultaneously. The Klingon spoke no English, and silence had descended on this part of the bar. All eyes in the area were watching the two men.

  “jImob. veQ SoH. ngeDqu’ HeghlIj. quvbe’pu’ yInlIj; Il’be’,” he shouted in perfect Klingon. Or, in English, “I need no help to take your honorless, worthless life.”

  The Klingon was plainly shocked to hear his language spoken so forcefully by a human. Again he recovered quickly. This time, he threw his whole body at Kell, who sidestepped the blow, grabbing the Klingon by the scruff of the neck “and guiding his head straight into the bar.

  The trader hit with a resounding—and satisfying—crack. Kell maintained his hold on the traders clothing and lifted the Klingon’s dazed head.

  “choqaDqa’chugh vaj bIHegh,” he shouted. “Test me again, and die!”

  Kell knew the trader would trouble them no more, yet he could not resist humiliating this insult to Klingon blood. Reaching out, he brought the back of his hand across the trader’s face.

  It was a deadly insult, but the Klingon trader did not seem prepared to die to answer it.

  Later, Kell would realize that the humiliation was [61] unwise given the consequences. Yet, even if he had known what would follow, he would not have been able to resist.

  Releasing the Klingon, Kell watched his eyes burn. But the trader turned and walked away. Following him with his eyes, Kell did not turn around until the Klingon was on the far side of the bar, near a group of Nausicaans.

  When Kell did turn to the rest of his squad, they were looking at him with respect. He thought Leslie was looking at him as well, but she quickly turned away, resuming her conversation with Ensign Sobel.

  “Thanks, Flash,” Benitez said. “That’s one I owe you. Well, another one anyway.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Kell said.

  “I could have handled him, you know,” Benitez said.

  Kell thought about it. Starfleet did teach basic self-defense. And the Klingon had been teaching some rudimentary Mok’bara techniques to the squad at Chief Fuller’s request. Benitez might well have surprised the Klingon trader.

  The Klingon nodded and saw that the bartender had finally produced a bottle of Romulan ale and was pouring it into six glasses.

  Ensign Sobel raised his glass first and said, “Here is to greater understanding and peace among the galaxy’s different people, even cranky Klingons.”

  The others lifted their glasses. Then he saw they were looking at him and he raised his own glass.

  There was only one way to drink Romulan ale and that was quickly—dallying risked injury. He finished his in a single fast swallow.

  [62] The burning only lasted a moment and slowly faded into pleasant warmth. For a moment, his raging thoughts quieted. Then he saw Parrish leaning close to Ensign Sobel.

  “I didn’t know you spoke Klingon, Flash. Any more surprises in you?” Benitez asked.

  Kell was immediately on his guard, but he saw that Benitez was sincere in his question.

  “I learned it when I was young, from a group of Klingons on my world,” Kell said.

  “You speak it very well,” Benitez said.

  “And you speak it terribly,” the Klingon countered.

  Benitez smiled. “I understand it better. I know my accent is terrible and I could never master all the spitting and shouting it requires. I studied for a little while at the Klingon Language Institute when I was in high school. It was for a galactic citizenship merit badge in the Starfleet Scouts.”

  But the Klingon barely heard him. His mind was already elsewhere as he saw Parrish lean forward and laugh at something Ensign Sobel said.

  Chapter Six

  KAREL ENTERED the second officer’s quarters. Klak was standing, waiting for him. It was a sign of respect, a sign that the Klingon took him seriously.

  “Senior weapons officer,” Klak said, nodding and gesturing to a seat next to the wall. In front of that seat was a table and on that table was a large bowl of squirming gagh.

  The second officer took his breakfast live, Karel noted, as he did himself. He sat and watched as the second officer took the seat opposite him.

 
; “Eat,” Klak said, grabbing a handful of worms.

  Karel did. The gagh was good and neither Klingon spoke until the worms were gone.

  “You have done well, Senior Weapons Officer,” Klak said.

  It was true, Karel knew, but it was unusual for a [64] Klingon officer to offer praise so casually. Karel was immediately on his guard.

  “I am pleased that you have made the most of the opportunity I gave you. The efficiency of your disrupter room has improved a great deal,” Klak said.

  Again true, but Karel noted that the second officer had pointed out his own role in Karel’s success.

  “I think you may go far on this ship, and in the Klingon Defense Force,” Klak said.

  “I serve the Empire,” Karel said flatly.

  Klak dismissed that with a wave. “We all serve the Empire, but we also serve ourselves. What are your ambitions?”

  “To crush the Empire’s enemies,” Karel said.

  Klak smiled and Karel noted that the smile was not pleasant, even by Klingon standards. “Earthers,” he said. “You would be better able to crush them on the bridge, as the weapons commander.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Karel said, “The ship has a capable weapons commander, Commander Koloth,” Karel said.

  “True, but we are talking about the future,” Klak said. “And if you are a better officer, then your duty demands that you challenge and replace Koloth.”

  “When I am ready, I will do my duty,” Karel said. “Until then, I have much to learn.”

  Klak smiled again and said, “I told you I might call on your loyalty, Karel.”

  “Yes,” Karel said.

  “Now I ask you to take an additional duty. I need to add to my personal guards,” Klak said.

  Karel was genuinely surprised. “Surely there are others—”

  [65] “I have seen you fight. You bested Gash, who was much bigger than you, and then another one in the same day. You fight with the blood of a warrior,” Klak said.

  “My disruptor room ...” Karel said.

  “You will keep your command, but from time to time I will ask you to ... assist me on off-duty periods.”