Star Trek - Sarek

by A. C. Crispin

  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 cord-dors 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 pres sed 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 trained targ, 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

  ... "

  "I knew 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 he
avy

  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.

  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 us outside 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 as 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. 1 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,

  Valdyrmmuch 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 in my

  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 grumble d.

  She watched him curiously. "This bothers you, Pityr, this mark from

  Karg?"

  "Of course it bothers meg" 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 this7" she asked.

  "Of course I'm not angry with you/I'm furious at Karg."

  "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 fir
st

  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, than 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