Alexander saw all three boys frown. Jeremy’s expression was still hostile, Bernard’s one of fear. Kim looked thoughtfully troubled.
Worf went on. “Alexander Rozhenko has been openly accused of starting a fight on school grounds. This he has also denied on his word of honor. Therefore, because his honor has been insulted, he has issued a challenge and the challenge has been accepted.” Scowling ominously, Worf turned and pointed at the three boys. “You will come forward now and face the challenger!”
Behind him, Alexander heard the intense jangling of Mr. Cunningham’s metal standard.
Murmurs of nervous surprise and fright rippled through the audience as Jeremy, Bernard and Kim stood up and slowly approached. Alexander did not meet their eyes as they paused before him, but he could tell that they were all scared. Even Jeremy’s protective crust of smug confidence had crumbled.
“Honor will be restored to the victor and any request he makes will be granted.” Worf looked at Alexander, then barked as he backed off. “Challenger! Choose your weapons and let the Suv’batlh begin!”
Alexander’s eyes flashed as he instantly shifted his gaze to his opponents. Pressing the bat’leth over his head, he shouted and shook the sword. “Batlh Daqawlu’jlH!”
Bernard trembled. Jeremy tensed and Kim set his jaw. All three boys turned white as the blood drained from their faces.
“Qab jlH nagil!” Alexander snarled. “I will be remembered with honor! Face me if you dare!” With a flourish, he whipped the sword up above his shoulder, intending to stay the blade.
The rage blindsided him as it burst free.
CHAPTER 11
Alexander’s arms trembled and his hands flexed on cold metal as he fought the savage command urging him to swing.
Jeremy and Kim cringed. Bernard ducked, throwing his arms over his head.
Gasps and cries of alarm rose from the assembly. Students jumped up in horrified disbelief and teachers glanced at each other uncertainly. Mr. Houseman, the office personnel and parents perched on the edge of their seats.
Filled with the power surging through his veins, Alexander felt the overwhelming desire of the Klingon predator to draw blood. He rebelled, calling on a stronger passion and a different strength. This was not a hunt and he was not a mindless beast. Clenching his teeth, he swung the sword and deftly pulled the swing, bringing the bat’leth to an abrupt halt in front of his chest. He stood perfectly still as he withdrew into himself and used the Mok’bara to calm the rage. Exhaling slowly, he turned, flipped the cutting edge toward him and offered the sword to Worf.
“The Suv’batlh,” Alexander said, turning back to face the boys, “must be fought fairly if honor is to be served. These are the weapons I chose.” As he pointed toward the far side of the gym, spotlights suddenly illuminated the pommel horse, the high-bar and the vault.
The boys blinked in dazed confusion.
Jeremy recovered first and asked warily. “You’re challenging us to a gymnastics meet?”
Alexander shrugged. “Well, if you’d rather settle this with bat’leths—”
His dark face shining with relief, Bernard emphatically shook his head. “Not me!”
Jeremy held up his hands. “I wouldn’t mind learning how to use one, but right now—I’ll pass.”
Kim just smiled.
The crowd, suddenly realizing what had just happened, roared with approval as Alexander removed his wrist gauntlets and slipped out of the plated-metal chest armor. Then, motioning for the other three boys to go first, he followed them onto the gym floor where Ms. Petrovna directed them to halt and face the principal.
“In the interest of fairness,” Mr. Houseman began, we have invited three gymnastics coaches from other schools to judge the Suv’batlh.”
Enthusiastic applause met the woman and two men who entered through a side door and seated themselves at a table. Their presence left no doubt that Alexander’s choice of “weapons” had been planned and came as no surprise to the adults in charge.
Alexander glanced back at his father, who was watching intently with the bat’leth comfortably settled in his arm. He nodded slightly with a not-quite smile that warmed Alexander to the core. For Worf, it was the same as an ear-to-ear grin.
Smiling as she walked over to stand by Worf, Ms. Marconi gave him a thumbs-up. Mr. Cunningham winked and gently shook the bangled staff.
“Alexander will compete against a different one of his opponents in each event. Their scores will not be revealed until the match is finished. The highest total score wins.” Mr. Houseman looked at the three other boys. “You may decide among yourselves who will compete in each event. However, you will all go first.”
The boys conferred as Ms. Petrovna marched to the vault. When she blew her whistle, Bernard removed his shoes and socks and darted to the starting line.
In keeping with the spirit of human sports events, the crowd applauded and screamed encouragement.
Kicking off his own boots and socks, Alexander shook his arms and legs to limber up. The vault was the easiest of the three events. Although Bernard was athletic and fast, gymnastics was not his sport. Jeremy and Kim, however, were on the school gymnastics team. They were used to performing under pressure and both competed on the high-bar and pommel horse, the most difficult apparatus.
Silence fell as Bernard paused to take several deep breaths. Then he was off and running. He jumped, hit the leather vault with both hands and executed a single somersault. Taking a step to keep from falling on landing, he threw his arms in the air.
The spectators whistled and cheered even though Bernard had not attempted a difficult vault or performed perfectly. His father applauded wildly and his mom jumped up and down with excitement. With a broad grin, Bernard bowed and shook his fist in the air. He had met the Klingon challenge and survived.
Alexander returned Bernard’s nod as they passed each other on his way to the vault. It was a small gesture, but it signified a measure of acceptance. Perhaps, Alexander thought as he paused on the line, his war against prejudice had already been won. If so, there would be no losers in the Suv’batlh being waged on the gym floor.
Focusing on the leather vault, Alexander drew a deep breath and took off at a run. With a flying leap, he hit the vault with his hands and pushed off into a perfect layout body turn and a solid landing. Straightening, Alexander punched the sky with his fists.
A silence even more absolute than the one after the Day of Honor origin recitation fell over the crowd. He held his pose, knowing his vault had been spectacular and his landing perfect. Still, maybe he had been right all along. Demonstrating his superior agility and strength would not ingratiate him to his human peers.
Then someone whooped and whistled from the bleachers. Within a split second, the gym filled with the thunder of clapping hands, shouts and whistles of enthusiastic appreciation. Worf roared with unabashed Klingon pride.
A shudder of emotion swept through Alexander and tears of joyous relief swelled in his eyes. Clamping down on the decidedly non-Klingon reaction and blinking back the mist, he smiled as he bowed and jogged back toward the others.
“That was perfect!” Bernard laughed.
“Very close anyway,” Jeremy agreed, shaking his head in wonder. “Looks like we’ve got some real competition.”
Kim nodded, then looked up as Ms. Petrovna moved to the high-bar and blew her whistle. With a curt salute that Alexander was sure included him, the slim boy ran to the mat.
“Go, Kim!” Alexander shouted.
Grinning, Jeremy and Bernard hooted encouragement.
Everyone lapsed into respectful silence again as Kim leaped to grab the bar. Swinging forward, then back to pick up momentum, he completed two rotations of the bar in exquisite form, then executed a handstand. On his downward swing, he released his hold, turned his body in the air and caught the bar again. As he swung over the top, he dismounted with a single somersault and nailed the landing.
As Alexander approached the bar, he
couldn’t help but be impressed with Kim’s flawless routine. Scoring higher wouldn’t be easy.
“The bar feels a little slippery,” Kim said as he stepped off the mat. “Be careful.”
“I will,” Alexander said, his voice choked with shock. It was the first time Kim had ever spoken to him as a person and not an enemy. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” Smiling, Kim jogged away.
Dipping into the chalk bucket, Alexander dusted the excess carbonate of magnesium off his hands, then paused to breathe in deeply. He jumped, caught the bar and swung instantly into three rotations topped off with a handstand. As his body fell forward, he bent his legs into a pike position and slipped them through his arms, released and turned to catch the bar again. His left hand slipped. He managed to hang on, but the fluidity of his movement had been interrupted, which would cost him with the judges. Swinging his body up again, he released into a single somersault dismount and landed squarely on the mat.
No one seemed to care about Alexander’s small mistake. Whether releasing their tension after the intensity of the Klingon segment of the program or just thoroughly enjoying a thrilling gymnastics competition, the crowd went wild.
“Too bad about that slip,” Jeremy said when Alexander joined the group. “But I gotta warn you, the horse is my best event. I’m gonna try like crazy to beat you.”
“Great. It wouldn’t be any fun otherwise.”
“Exactly.” Responding to Ms. Petrovna’s whistle, Jeremy dashed to the pommel horse in the center of the floor.
Jeremy paused to compose himself, then jumped and grabbed both pommels. With quick, sure releases of his hands as he moved, he swung his extended body to the left, then back to the center, then to the right, traveling the length of the horse. With both hands on the pommels again, he drew up into a handstand. Then, spreading his legs, he slowly lowered them until they extended in front of his body on either side of his arms. Swinging smoothly back into a handstand, he pushed off and nailed the landing. After saluting the audience with raised hands, Jeremy bowed then jumped with delight.
Alexander sighed, then headed across the gym. Jeremy had executed the difficult routine without a single glitch. There was only one way to beat him—if he dared.
“I think that’s the best I’ve ever done, Alexander.”
Standing with his hands on his hips, Jeremy gasped for breath. “If you beat it, I’ll—”
What? Alexander stiffened automatically.
“—buy your ticket to a holoflick in town tomorrow. That new Ferengi comedy just started and Bernard and Kim are bustin’ to see it.”
“You’re on!” Alexander beamed. Jeremy’s proposal wasn’t a dare or a gamble. It was just the boy’s way of apologizing and opening the door to friendship. “And if I don’t beat it, I’ll buy for all three of you.”
“Good luck.” Cuffing Alexander’s arm, Jeremy waved to a cheering audience as he left.
Recognizing an edge of nervousness that might distract him, Alexander paused and closed his eyes before starting. Using the Mok’bara discipline, he cleared his mind of everything except the pommel horse beside him. For a brief few moments, nothing else existed in his universe.
Grabbing the pommels, Alexander extended his legs and traveled the horse, demonstrating the same basic movements Jeremy had. Still following Jeremy’s routine, he drew into a handstand, then scissored his legs. He followed through by slowly lowering his legs and holding position with them in front of his body. However, instead of finishing, he suddenly flashed into a difficult and complex movement known as the Thomas Flare since it had first been executed in a late twentieth-century Olympic Games. Whipping his scissored legs from one side to the other, he released and grabbed the pommels with lightning quickness. Then, with a burst of energy, he pushed off and dismounted with a half twist.
Alexander didn’t need to hear the tumultuous roar of the crowd or see his father shaking the bat’leth in the air to know that his routine had been dazzling. If he had had any doubts, they would have been instantly vanquished as Jeremy, Bernard and Kim rushed up to surround him.
“I’ve never seen anyone do that before!” Bernard was breathless with excitement.
“Not in real life.” Kim qualified the other boy’s observation. “Only in major competitions.”
“I’m so flabbergasted, I don’t know what to say.”
Jeremy shrugged, then extended his hand.
Alexander shook it, making sure not to squeeze with the full power of his Klingon grip. Breaking Jeremy’s hand at this point might end a wonderful friendship before it ever got started.
“Attention!” Mr. Houseman shouted, moving his arms in a downward motion as he tried to quiet the audience. “Please! May I have your attention!”
Ms. Petrovna blew her whistle and Mr. Santiago flashed the lights. Order returned within a minute.
“The results, if you will.” Mr. Houseman glanced at the judges. The woman keyed a panel on the table. Each boy’s total score flashed on the board attached high on the end wall.
Alexander’s point total was higher by a wide margin.
With the bat’leth ceremoniously cradled in his arm, Worf, followed by Ms. Marconi with her light tech-torch and Mr. Cunningham with his jangling standard, came forward.
“The Suv’batlh has been fought and won!” Worf announced. “Alexander Rozhenko’s honor has been avenged and restored.”
Cheers and applause rose and quickly died when Worf frowned.
Alexander struggled to keep a straight face.
“Any request you make will be granted! Yay’lIj! Victory is yours!”
Alexander started uncertainly as all eyes focused on him. He hadn’t really thought about the request part of the Suv’batlh. He already had everything he wanted his honor and the respect of his father and peers. Still, one thing suddenly came to mind.
“I would like to try out for the gymnastics team.”
Mr. Santiago jumped to his feet. “You’ve got it, Alexander! See me right after school.”
“Uh…” Alexander’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I can’t. I’ve got detention.”
Silence.
“No!” Glancing at Kim and Bernard, Jeremy stepped forward. “We tipped over that bookcase, not Alexander.”
“And we started the fight!” Kim added.
“We’re the ones who should be punished,” Bernard concluded.
Alexander stared. The Batlh Jaj ceremony had apparently been far more impressive than he had imagined.
Mr. Houseman rubbed his chin, then looked up with a smile. “In keeping with Klingon tradition, the Suv’batlh has settled these matters. We’ll just call it even. As long as—” He scowled pointedly at all three boys. “—you promise not to do anything like this again.”
“Word of honor!” The boys swore in unison, raising their right hands as was the human custom.
“Dismissed.” Mr. Houseman grinned.
And Mr. Cunningham jangled the standard one last time.
As the students and teachers began to file out to return to class, the boys’ parents and the Rozhenkos hurried over to congratulate the contestants.
“You were magnificent, Alexander!” Sergey beamed.
Mr. Sullivan clasped Jeremy by the arms. “I’m proud of you, son. You may have the makings of a good Starfleet officer after all.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Alexander is thinking about going to Starfleet Academy, too.” Helena smiled, her eyes twinkling.
Alexander gasped. He had never, ever told anyone he wanted to join Starfleet. The idea had never entered his mind. “Who told you that?”
“Your father!” Helena said brightly. “He told me that you said you wanted to be just like him. He’s so proud.”
“But did he say Starfleet specifically?” Alexander pressed. It hadn’t been that long since Worf had stopped trying to push him into a Klingon way of life. He didn’t think he could stand it if his father suddenly started pushing him toward Starfleet.
Helena frowned. “Specifically? No, I don’t believe he did.”
Alexander sagged in relief. For a long time he had thought he wanted to be a diplomat like his mother, K’Ehleyr. They shared the mixed human and Klingon heritage that had allowed her to be so effective in trying to bridge the gap between the Federation and the Empire. Recently, though, he had come to realize that his interest in that career path had been greatly influenced by his father’s stubborn determination to turn him into a Klingon warrior. In truth, he knew that K’Ehleyr wouldn’t want him to become a diplomat for her sake any more than she had wanted him to become a warrior to please Worf. To make his mother truly proud, he would have to find his own path—whatever it was. He had plenty of time to decide whether he wanted to be a diplomat or a Klingon warrior or a Starfleet officer or something else entirely. Right now, he just wanted to be a kid.
A mostly Klingon kid living in a human world, he realized soberly. He would never be free of the savage rage that lurked in his Klingon blood. For the rest of his life he would have to guard and struggle against his natural tendency to fight first and think later. However, now he knew he could conquer those powerful, warrior impulses just as his father had.
Feeling better about himself than he had in a long time, Alexander looked at the students leaving the gym. He inhaled softly when he caught Suzanne Milton staring at him.
Alexander snarled, then smiled.
Suzanne flushed, waved shyly and smiled back.
Glancing over his shoulder, Alexander watched as his father demonstrated how to use a bat’leth for Ms. Marconi. However, the librarian’s rapt attention was on Worf and not the sword.
Starfleet officer and Klingon warrior.
Alexander frowned thoughtfully. He had to admit there were advantages to being both.
About the Author
Diana G. Gallagher lives in Minnesota with her husband, Marty Burke, three dogs, three cats, and a cranky parrot. When she’s not writing, she likes to read, walk the dogs, and look for cool stuff at garage sales for her grandsons, Jonathan, Alan, and Joseph.
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Young Adult Books #11: Day of Honor 5: Honor Bound Page 8
