Chapter Text
Foreword:
I know I said I wouldn't deal with Klingons in this series, as they've been done to death in TNG, DS9 and VOY - and quite controversially to TOS in some places, too. Hence the different adversaries established in Part One.
However, I wanted to do the EMV version of the "Rogue Planet" episode, and frankly, I found the Eska - the once-a-time alien species featured there - faceless, one-dimensional and boring. In fact, they were a cheap copy of TOS-Klingons, without much of a cultural background. So I thought I'd go for the real thing; and since I don't intend to do a "Sleeping Dogs" story, I've brought over the Klingon characters from that episode to a different setting. Klingons have a tradition of hunting, too, so I thought they would fit the plot rather nicely; and I really liked Officer Bu'kaH. Plus, this way I could use some book-canon aspects of Klingon culture, which are more interesting (in my opinion) than a lot of what we got to see in the various series.
I must point out that I haven't seen anything beyond Enterprise, so my views might contradict things that happened in the newer series. But since this is an AU already, I hereby claim poetic licence.
Sources used for this story:
- Vonda McIntyre's ideas about the various Klingon nations and customs in the novelization of the third Star Trek movie;
- The Klingon Dictionary by Mark Okrand (printed version);
- The unfilmed script "Kitumba"; a planned two-parter for the never realized Star Trek II series;
- The Memory Beta wiki for various aspects of TOS-era Klingon culture in the novels.
- "The Budget Guide to the Klingons 1995" - an uncensored and unauthorized (but very funny) fan book.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter One
Having finished mapping the Arachnid Nebula, the Enterprise crew parted ways with the V’tosh ka’tur – mostly on friendly terms, as the others were not responsible for Tolaris’s behaviour – and they continued their way to the next planet marked on the Elachi star map of Gamma Ventris IV.
There were several people who genuinely regretted not having the chance to spend more time with the unusual Vulcans, though. One of those was Hoshi, who had become fast friends with the formidable T'Vet, her counterpart on the Vahklas. Jack himself had found Captain Tavin an interesting character and would have loved to learn to know him better. And the entire engineering contingent mourned the loss of Kov; especially the ladies who had found the tubby young engineer cute.
T’Pol’s feelings (whether she admitted having them or not) were a lot more ambiguous. She’d been briefly reunited with her long-lost brother, only to have the trust between them broken again, their once so close bond destroyed even more by S’task’s mad ambition to prove himself right. In some aspects he had been right, she confessed to herself. He, more than anyone in the family, came too much after their second forefather to follow the strict discipline of kolinahr. But he had also been wrong trying to force her to follow his path.
Captain Archer had offered to press charges but she could not do it. S’task was her brother, a vital part of her early life. She had warned Captain Tavin and the crew of the Vahklas that ‘Tolaris’ was unstable and therefore unpredictably dangerous, though. The rest was up to them. She had done everything she could.
But the feeling of loss and loneliness hit her tenfold after having a little bit of their childhood closeness back, even if only for a short time.
Being surrounded by humans with their loud, emotional nature and questionable priorities could be a trial sometimes. In other times, though, it was a welcome distraction. Like now, when Commander Tucker was turning the entire Bridge upside down, only to take a good picture of the captain, who was quickly getting fed up with the exercise.
“We couldn’t do this in my ready room?”
“Nah, the captain got to be in the captain’s chair,” the chief engineer replied cheerfully. “Tilt your chin up.”
Archer rolled his eyes in exasperation. He did have a very impressive jawline, at least according to female crewmembers, but even his light streak of vanity was overstressed by his best friend’s enthusiastic fussing.
“Just take the damn picture, Trip!”
Charlie Tucker wasn’t so easily stopped, though. He was on a mission: to take the best, most dignified picture of his captain, and he would do it, regardless of the price.
“You've got a stanchion growing out of your head. Swivel to the right about ten degrees. Every recruit walking into Starfleet Command is going to see this on the wall.”
At this point Mayweather joined the conversation, pointing out – rather unhelpfully, from the captain’s point of view – what an inspiration it had been for young cadets to see the portraits of famous captains displayed at Starfleet Command. That seemingly innocent comment (Mayweather’s mien was too serious to be genuine) only irritated the captain further.
“Do Vulcan captains have their portraits hanging at the High Command?” He asked, just when Tucker tried to persuade T’Pol (unsuccessfully, of course) to kill the monitors in the situation room because there was a reflection from one of the status displays.
“Vulcans are revered for their accomplishments, not for the way they look,” she answered truthfully.
Tucker was clearly about to make some acerbic comment when Reed interrupted them, to everyone’s relief. “Sir, I'm picking up a small planet on our current heading.”
Archer turned around in surprise, happy to get a break from his enforced photo session. “I thought there weren't any systems along this course.”
“It's not a system, Captain,” the armoury officer said. “It's just a planet.”
The captain raised both eyebrows in sudden interest. “Put it up.”
Reed obeyed. The view on the main screen was not very impressive: just a black disc against the stars.
“Magnify,” the captain ordered.
The magnification didn’t bring any details. Not for the naked eye anyway. The sensors, however, had been more effective.
“It is a rogue, Captain,” T’Pol reported, peeking into her hooded scanner. The blank looks on several human faces inspired her to add, “A planet that has broken out of its orbit.”
“That happens?”
“Not too frequently, but there have been precedents.” She was careful to keep the excitement out of her voice but Archer still picked it up. The man was more observant than she had given him credit for.
“Definitely something of interest, then,” he turned to Mayweather. “Lay in a course, Travis. Let's take a closer look.”
“Aye, sir.” The helmsman’s smile was wide enough to reach from ear to ear… figuratively speaking. After spending all that time mapping the Arachnid Nebula, finding an actual, interesting planet was a godsend. Everybody had been desperately bored, ever since they had parted ways with the Vahklas.
Everybody but T’Pol, that is. She had too much emotional burden to deal with; and to keep hidden from everyone else. But even she was invigorated by the prospect of some scientific discovery. It was her job, after all. It was normal.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As they got within range of the short-range sensors, the chance of that scientific discovery promised to increase tenfold. The readings showed something she had never seen before. Not in context with a rogue planet.
“This planet supports a diverse animal population.” She managed to keep the surprise out of her voice, naturally. Barely.
“How is that possible?” Ensign Sato sounded every bit as surprised but could not hide her surprise quite so well.
“Shouldn't the surface be frozen solid?” Ensign Mayweather asked at the same time.
T’Pol consulted her readings again. “Hot gas is vented from the planet's interior. Most of the life forms are concentrated in those areas.”
“Oases,” the captain realized. “Any people?”
T'Pol re-checked her readings in the unlikely case she might have overlooked something. As expected, she had not. “No evidence of humanoid life.”
"I beg to differ,” Lt. Reed looked up from his own readings. “I'm picking up a power signature near the equator. There's a ship down there.”
Captain Archer went on high alert immediately. A ship did not necessarily mean any good in these days.
“Try to hail them,” he ordered Ensign Sato who gave it several tries; then she shook her head.
“No response.”
“Maybe they want to be left alone,” Commander Tucker suggested. “A single ship on a dark planet? Maybe they're on their honeymoon.”
The captain ignored his chief engineer’s juvenile attempt at humour and turned back to his armoury officer. “What kind of power signature is that, Lieutenant? Anything we’ve met before?”
Reed checked his readings again. “Afraid so, sir. It’s Klingon.”
Everyone on the Bridge became tense hearing that. Enterprise might have never had direct contact with the Klingons, but the warrior race had a fearsome reputation. Earth had barely avoided a war with them a couple of years previously, thanks to Vulcan Ambassador Soval’s diplomatic skills… and Hoshi’s abilities as a translator. That had been her last mission before her imprisonment.
“What are Klingons possibly doing down on that planet?” Archer finally asked. “It couldn’t have been part of their territory – the distance is too great. And it doesn’t even have any strategic importance.”
“Not that we know of,” Reed agreed; and if anyone, he would have known it.
“There has to be a something of interest for them, or they wouldn’t be here,” Mayweather pointed out. “Klingons aren’t into sightseeing.”
“It would be prudent to send down an away team and find out what has brought them here,” T’Pol said. “Any advantage they might have found would endanger the balance of power in this quadrant.”
“I see you’ve taken lessons from G.G,” Tucker drawled.
Indeed, that was something the Viseeth would have said – had they not left Enterprise for a consultation with some Vulcan diplomats a few weeks previously.
“The Subcommander is right, sir,” Reed, too, ignored the chief engineer’s attempts to be funny. “Klingons are hostile and unpredictable by their very nature. We should definitely check out what they are doing there… and why.”
“Agreed,” Archer looked at Tucker. “Have a ‘pod prepared, Trip. We’ll go down and play clueless explorers. We, as T’Pol, Doctor Yannes, Hoshi and the two of us.”
That sounded logical. Not only was T’Pol a scientist, she was also the First Officer and as such supposed to lead the away teams (even if the captain was reckless enough to participate). Dr. Yannes, their Centaurian guest, was a xenobiologist; studying what wildlife could exist on such an unusual planet was her job.
Hoshi, on the other hand, clearly hadn’t expected being included. “Me, sir?”
Archer shrugged. “They’re Klingons. You speak Klingon. I won’t depend on the universal translator alone when facing those guys.”
“With all due respect, sir, you shouldn’t go down there without a security escort!” Reed protested.
The captain shrugged off his concerns. “T’Pol and I can take care of ourselves. And I’m sure between us we can protect Hoshi and Doctor Yannes.”
“Have you ever dealt with Klingons, sir?” There was no answer, which told Reed everything he needed to know. “Well, I have. And while I don’t doubt the Subcommander is up to deal with them, I’m not sure you are. It takes experience.”
“Lieutenant Reed is right,” T’Pol interfered before Archer could have come up with a scathing answer. “We might need his expertise.”
After some reluctance the captain finally gave in. The six of them gathered their field jackets and phase pistols and headed towards the launch bay.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Less than an hour later they were sitting in the shuttlepod, approaching the dark planet beneath them. Reed was trying to get in some visuals – without success.
“Infrared's useless,” he muttered crossly. "There's too much heat coming from those thermal vents.’
As if on clue, the shuttlepod got hit by atmospheric turbulences. Archer needed to do a bit of clever manoeuvring to bring it into balance again. He then checked his readings.
“We should be right over that ship,” he said. “The question is: how to get down near enough to it. Getting lost in a dark alien forest would be… unfortunate.”
“I am scanning for a break in the canopy,” T’Pol was already doing so while speaking.
Hoshi, still a bit green around the gills from the previous manoeuvre, pulled a face. “If this is anything like the Amazon, good luck.”
Archer gave her a quick, encouraging smile. “You know I used to say I could land a shuttlepod with my eyes closed.”
“As long as you manage to land it in one piece,” she replied automatically. This was an old joke between them, and Archer laughed.
“I’m still here, aren’t I? And so are you. I’m fairly sure I’ll manage this time, too.”
“Well, the proof's in the pudding, Captain,” Reed commented, with just a hint of challenge in his voice.
“There is a clearing ahead, nine hundred metres, but it's not much bigger than the shuttlepod,” T’Pol interrupted them before things could have escalated.
“It doesn't have to be,” Archer replied confidently.
Hoshi was tempted to say something about drowning in testosterone. Unfortunately, the other two women, being aliens, might not have understood the metaphor. Which was a shame, as nothing could be as powerful as female solidarity, she thought.
She had to admit, though, that Jack’s confidence was more than just bragging. Their captain was still one of the best pilots Earth could offer; even though Travis had broken his long-standing Academy records. He set the ‘pod down on the handkerchief-sized clearing softly like a feather.
“Nice job, Captain,” Dr. Yannes commented; then she gave Reed a falsely friendly smile. “Proof enough for you, Lieutenant?”
Well-honed survival skills prevented Reed from answering. No-one in their right minds raised the ire of the amazons from Alpha Centauri IV when they were in protective mode. Dr. Yannes might have exchanged the traditional weapons of her people for a science lab, but she was still fiercely protective of her mate. Even if their… association was a temporary one.
Hoshi suppressed a grin as she picked up her field kit, preparing to leave the ‘pod. It was perhaps petty, probably childish even, but everyone who could shut Reed up was made of win in her books.
Switching on their torches they dared the first steps out into a completely dark world. The starlight was barely enough to make out the ‘pod that was still within reach. Despite the permanent darkness, though, the tropical large leaved foliage appeared green in the torchlight which, considering the lack of a sun, was somewhat surprising.
“I wonder when this planet has broken out of orbit,” Dr. Yannes commented. “The flora still seems fairly normal; I can’t discover any specific ways the plants might have adapted to the darkness.”
“Does it matter?” The captain asked.
Dr. Yannes nodded. “Of course! Chlorophyll, which makes the plants green, is needed for photosynthesis. But photosynthesis is not possible without a sun. Which again means that not so long ago this planet must have been part of a solar system, or the only life forms would be bacteria or algae, living in the hot springs.”
“Consequently, something must have knocked it out of orbit,” Reed said. “And that something must have been extremely powerful if it was able to tear a whole planet out of the gravitational hold of a sun. Whether it was an unknown sort of cosmic phenomenon – or a species with powers beyond our imagination.”
“Which brings us back to the Iconians; or to their servant races,” Archer said slowly.
Reed nodded. “Yes, Captain; although we cannot reject the possible existence of another, equally powerful race out of hand, just because we haven’t heard of them yet.”
“Captain,” T’Pol looked up from her scanner, “the vessel is that way, six hundred metres.”
She indicated the direction with a slightly extended hand.
“Good,” Archer took a deep breath. “Perhaps we can get some answers from the Klingons.”
“Or a mek’leth between our ribs,” Hoshi muttered.
“Klingons are rarely forthcoming with answers,” T’Pol agreed. “But they appreciate strangers speaking their language; assuming it is the right dialect.”
“No pressure at all, eh?” That last remark didn’t serve to boost Hoshi’s self-confidence. She was quite fluent in the two main dialects, Kumburanya and Rumaiym, but there were other Klingon languages she was barely familiar with; or not at all.
Archer squeezed her shoulder for a moment. “Don’t panic. You can do it. I know you can.”
For her part Hoshi had a lot less confidence in her own abilities, but it was encouraging that Jack had faith in her. Encouraging and frightening at the same time; because there were simply no guarantees for success.
They followed T’Pol’s lead, phase pistols on the ready and night vision monocles activated, when there was a barely audible noise on their right side. They swirled around to see a multi-legged creature – like a three-feet-long centipede – crawling up a tree at a fairly alarming speed, its long, pale body shimmering in the torchlight.
“What the hell was that?” Archer asked, shuddering. There was something profoundly disgusting in the way the creature moved. “Some kind of centipede?”
“Certainly not one I’ve seen before,” Dr. Yannes replied, “although it seemed to be a similar species. I hope we’ll see more of the local fauna; it promises to be fascinating.”
“Better you than me,” Hoshi muttered under her breath.
She’d never liked the creepy-crawlies; that had been the only disadvantage of living in Brazil. At least those had been small enough so she could crash them under her boots. Not like this monster.
Following T’Pol’s directions, they – rather unexpectedly – came upon a fairly mundane campsite, complete with tents and a fire that was still burning low. Only that no-one seemed to be home.
“Curious,” T’Pol murmured. “I am still not detecting any bio-signs, even though their ship is less than two hundred metres in that direction.”
Again, she indicated said direction with an extended hand.
“If they are indeed Klingons and not just pirates using a stolen Klingon ship, then they are wary and suspicious,” Reed said. “We can assume that they’ve already discovered our presence and are now waiting for the best chance to attack us.”
“That is a logical assumption,” T’Pol agreed.
“Aren’t you two a bit paranoid?” Archer asked, clearly exasperated that they had ganged up against him.
“Not at all,” T’Pol replied calmly. “Such thing would be fitting usual Klingon behaviour.”
Archer eyed the small campsite doubtfully. “This doesn’t seem like a military camp to me.”
“They may not be military,” Reed answered, “but they are all warriors. Only the members of the great warrior Houses can travel through space freely; and their retainers, of course.”
“You appear to know a great deal about those guys,” Archer said with just a hint of an edge in his voice.
Reed shrugged. “All part of the job, sir.”
“Which one?” The captain’s voice was deceivingly mild but the meaning unmistakable.
Reed, however, didn’t even blink. “Either one, sir. One day you’ll realize that my former… assignment can be quite useful for my current one.”
Again, T’Pol smoothly interfered before things could have escalated.
“As time is an issue, Captain, I suggest that we split up. You, Doctor Yannes and Lieutenant Reed can remain here, while Ensign Sato and I keep looking for the ship.”
Archer shook his head. “You and Lieutenant Reed check out the ship. I’ll need Hoshi here, in case anyone shows up.”
“By all due respect, sir, I doubt the Klingons would be interested in talking,” Reed’s voice was tense. The idea of leaving his commanding officer behind, unprotected, with only a civilian and an ensign who was still fairly helpless with the new phase pistols did not appeal to him.
“Why don’t let me play captain for a change, Malcolm?” Archer asked mildly, but with a finality that shut down any possible further argument. That he addressed his armoury officer by his first name might have sounded friendly, but Reed knew it better. Therefore he shut up reluctantly and followed T’Pol.
“He is right, you know,” the Vulcan said when they got out of the captain’s earshot. “He will need Ensign Sato if the Klingons show up.”
“So would we,” Reed muttered.
T’Pol shook her head. “Not necessarily. I do understand basic Klingon; and Ensign Sato has updated the universal translator with the newest information about both main dialects.”
“Enough to make us understood?” Reed asked doubtfully.
“Enough to understand the inscriptions inside the ship, which would be most likely in Kumburanya,” T’Pol replied calmly.
“You assume it is a military vessel.”
It was not a question, but in typical Vulcan manner T’Pol answered it nonetheless. Malcolm sometimes wondered whether Vulcans received special training from a tender age on to be as predictable as possible. Perhaps they did.
Unaware of his rather unflattering inner musings, T’Pol went on elaborating why she thought the Klingon ship had to be a military vessel… in time-honoured Vulcan manner not revealing a single thing that Reed, thanks to his years in Starfleet Intelligence, wouldn’t have known already. He toned out the useless infodump, focusing on their surroundings instead, aware of the fact that they were probably being watched and might be walking straight into a trap. The slight noise behind them only strengthened this feeling; it seemed as if somebody had stepped onto a dry twig.
“Did you hear that?” he interrupted T’Pol, who nodded.
“Yes.” She consulted her scanner with a slight frown.
“Anything?” Reed asked.
The Vulcan shook her head. “For a moment I had a humanoid bio-sign. It is gone now.”
“What kind of bio-sign?” The answer was glaringly obvious, but he had learned early on to deal with facts, not theories, no matter how well-founded those might be.
“Klingon,” T’Pol replied, as expected. “They must be using some kind of personal cloaking device that shields them from my scanner.”
“And yet you’ve spotted them for a moment.”
“The logical explanation is that the device fluctuated for a moment.”
That made sense; but it didn’t lessen the risk involved when one was being followed by invisible Klingons.
“Do we continue?” Reed asked.
Had it been up to him, he would have done so without a second thought. But right now he was outranked by their Vulcan executive officer, and Vulcans had different priorities. Usually. Not this time, though, obviously. This time T’Pol was for continuing their mission, too.
“I suggest that we go on,” she said. “They are watching us, regardless of what we do. It is only logical that we follow our orders. Besides,” she added after a moment, “I admit a certain amount of scientific curiosity towards a Warp-capable ship small enough to land on a planet.”
“They could have used a shuttlepod, too,” Reed pointed out, playing devil’s advocate.
T’Pol nodded. “They could, but I doubt that they had. According to the Security Directorate, a relatively new design has been added to the Klingon fleet: a DujHod-class transport vessel, the designation of which is to transport small units of warriors from one destination to another. It is usually manned by a small crew: a commanding officer and two subordinates, but it can carry as many as twenty additional troops.”
“And the Security Directorate didn’t find it necessary to inform Starfleet Command about this?” Reed asked acidly.
His tone, as usual, had absolutely no effect on T’Pol.
“No-one has actually seen such a ship so far,” she replied calmly. “It has only been in service for a couple of years, and only within Klingon territory. We might be the first off-worldlers to take a look… and gather some information.”
That was something Reed was eager to do, and thus they followed the direction indicated by T’Pol’s scanner. No-one attempted to stop them (not yet anyway), which might have been a sure sign that they were about to walk into a trap with their eyes wide open. But, as T’Pol had pointed out, they were being watched anyway; and besides, they had nowhere else to go, unless they wanted to turn around and walk back to the ‘pod. Which they did not. They had their orders; and they both wanted very much to see that mystery ship.
They fought their way through the dense forest foliage by torchlight, always feeling the watchful eyes in their back but unable to pinpoint the whereabouts of the watchers. Reed considered in all seriousness to request a machete being added to the standard equipment of all away teams… and not only to cut a way through the underwood. A really good, heavy and sharp machete could take it up with a Klingon mek’leth – if somebody was skilled with a blade.
He knew better than mention that thought to T’Pol, of course.
Against all expectations, they could make the two hundred metres to the lighting where T’Pol’s scanner indicated the ship without being attacked. When they finally got there, they stared at the relatively small vessel in surprise.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Reed said after a moment of quiet inspection. “I’ve never seen a Klingon ship like this.”
“Neither have I” T’Pol admitted. “We have no pictures of it in our database… yet,” she started redeeming that fact by taking several pictures with her scanner.
The small ship was indeed fairly different from the known Klingon vessels, being horseshoe-shaped and quite heavily armed for its size.
“It is approximately eighty-eight point seven six metres long,” T’Pol noted, consulting her readings. “It features high-quality sensors and a tractor beam generator. It also carries seven escape pods.”
“That’s rather unusual for a Klingon vessel,” Reed commented. “Are you sure it is Klingon?”
“Quite sure, based on the energy signature,” T’Pol replied dryly. “Besides, there is also a Klingon emblem on the hull.”
She aimed her torch at a certain spot of the hull to prove her point, and Reed had to admit that she was right.
“What about weapons?” He then asked.
She consulted her scanner again. “Four disruptor cannons and one torpedo launcher at the front.”
“No real danger for Enterprise then,” he concluded, “but it could shoot our ‘pod to smithereens.”
“That is correct,” her voice was as neutral as always; if she didn’t know what ‘smithereens’ meant, she chose not to ask. “According to our intelligence, its maximum travelling velocity is Warp factor five.”
“Meaning that we can’t outrun it, either.”
“That is also correct,” she admitted.
“Which means we should try to take a closer look, just to see what other surprises it might be hiding.”
“I am not certain that would be wise. We know we are being watched.”
“And they most likely expect us to try getting in, so we can as well do them the favour.”
With that, Reed made a determined step towards the ship – only to find himself staring straight down the barrel of a Klingon disruptor.
“mev!’ A harsh but unmistakably female voice demanded,” qalegh v Inett!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Bu’kaH vestai-Rustazh had been following the two intruders since they had parted from the other half of their group at the campsite. They had been heading for the ship, and protecting the ship was her responsibility. The epetai might have been the owner of the ship, but she was its engineer; the one who kept it up and running all the time. She did a good job and she knew it and was proud of her achievement. She would never allow some honourless strangers to steal it or damage it.
She could have attacked (and most likely killed) them any time while they were making their way to the ship but chose not to do so just yet. Not as long as she didn’t know whom she was dealing with and what they were capable of. She was an excellent fighter, never bested by anyone so far, but she was also an intelligent fighter. Watching a potential adversary first, finding out their strengths and weaknesses and using the latter against them was what had made her victorious in previous fights, against many warriors physically much stronger than she was.
At least the T’Khasi woman was a known quality. She had fought (and killed) T’Khasi before and knew they were deceivingly strong. And while they avoided one-to-one fights if possible, they could be absolutely lethal if cornered. Not as lethal as she was, though, so she did not worry about the T’Khasi.
The other one though… that one belonged to a species she had never met before. At first sight he (assuming it was a male) appeared pathetically puny, but her practiced eye recognized the smooth, powerful moves of a born predator under that unimpressive surface.
They said about the Seyalii(1) that while fragile-looking, they could kill Gnuta-beasts with their bare fists; at least the females could, when protecting their offspring(2). Bu’kaH never met a Seyali but she knew they were supposed to have beautiful faces (at least what other species considered beautiful, which didn’t meet the Klingon concept of beauty), skin smooth like glass and no hair at all.
The short, wiry man accompanying the T’Khasi had fine laugh lines around his mouth and eyes and a full head of wavy dark hair. Not enough to look presentable in Klingon terms, but at least he did have hair. Hair that was more attractive than the short-cropped one of the T’Khasi woman in any case.
He was an unknown entity, and that fact made Bu’kaH act with extreme caution. She could be reasonably certain that she’d be able to kill the T’Khasi without overmuch effort. She was unfamiliar with the abilities of the other one, though, and thus there were no guarantees that she could kill both of them. She needed an alternate solution.
Against either one of hem she’d have used her mek’leth – an excellent blade, custom-made for her use only. It had become an extension of her body; no huge male warrior with a heavy batt’leth would stand a chance against her in a duel fought with blades. Here and now, though, she had two adversaries, one of them unknown and therefore unpredictable. She needed to capture them and bring them to the epetai; it was his right to decide about their fate.
With a hint of regret, she shoved the mek’leth back into her belt and pulled out her disruptor pistol.
She hated firearms. They were brutal, primitive and required no finely-honed skills. But they were also very effective if one had to face more than just one enemy. She aimed at the male of unknown origins and barked in clipped Kumburanya, knowing that at least the T’Khasi would understand it: “mev! qalegh v Inett!”
As expected, the T’Khasi froze obediently. The other intruder, however, did not. Quickly like a striking baqghol(3), he lunged forward, grabbed the disruptor pistol, together with the hand holding it, and wrenched it to the side with a strength no-one would have expected from such a puny creature. Bu’kaH hissed in pain; the shot that had automatically gone off went widely astray. With the same move, the man wrestled the disruptor from her and turned it around, aiming straight at her face.
He said something that she could not understand. After a moment the T’Khasi adjusted something on her small, hand-held gadget, and now the words started making sense.
“That’s better,” the male intruder was saying. “Now we can discuss things like civilized people. But no tricks; I know how to fire a Klingon disruptor and won’t hesitate to do so.”
His grey eyes were cold like those of a baqghol; there could be no doubt that he would indeed shoot her if she tried to attack him. She scowled but had to give in – for the time being. Getting killed because she’d been outwitted by some unknown alien wouldn’t have been an honourable death. She had to wait for a better opportunity to gain the upper hand.