c) copyright 2000
Karyn Van Kainen


                                            Chapter Thirteen

     Corry was dozing lightly when the distant drone of engines snapped her
from her slumber.  “They’re here,” she told Kerla, climbing to her feet and
moving toward the open door.
     A strong hand caught her by the leg to stop her.  “Wait,” Kerla
uttered, causing her to frown at him.  He fell silent, listening as the
engine noise grew louder.  Then he clutched his wounded side tightly and
struggled to get to his feet.  “Help me!”
     Corry swiftly bent to assist him.  For a moment he just stood there,
leaning against the brick wall with his eyes tightly closed.  Outside, the
engine noise reached an almost deafening crescendo, then abruptly fell
silent.  Corry glanced out the doorway, then back at Kerla.  “What’s wrong?”
she insisted.
     Corry uttered a startled sound as he suddenly grabbed the front of her
tunic and yanked it up, drawing his pistol out of the waistband of her
trousers.  Pushing her behind him, Kerla leaned out far enough to see
outside.  Across the field, a small contingent of Klingon soldiers were
piling out of a military transport.  Swearing in Klingonese, Kerla aimed his
weapon and opened fire, killing the forwardmost soldier instantly.  With
shouts of alarm, the Klingon soldiers scattered in a frantic search for
cover.  From safer positions, the soldiers began firing at the tiny
building, forcing Kerla to back away from the doorway.
     Corry slapped her hands over her ears against the rapid-fire concussion
of energy bolts.  Kerla pushed her farther away from the doorway as the air
filled with smoke and tiny bits of flying debris.  Then, as quickly as it
had begun, the attack suddenly ended.  For a long moment, Corry only heard
Kerla’s labored breathing and the pounding of her own heart in her ears.
Then, somewhere outside a Klingon voice began to shout.  They listened,
Corry watching Kerla’s face carefully.
     “What’s he saying?”
     “Shh.”  Kerla looked around, seeking inspiration.
     There were more shouts, more earnest this time.  Corry watched as Kerla
checked the charge on his weapon.  “Who are they?” she demanded.  “What do
they want?”
     “Secret police,” he replied.  He pressed a hand to his wounded side,
grimacing painfully.  “They want me to hand you over.”
     Corry gazed at him, thinking that he looked on the verge of collapse.
She reached over and put a hand on the barrel of his weapon.  “You’d better
show me how to work this thing.”

                                                      **********

     A tall Klingon woman strode quickly down the main hallway of the
Military Command Center, avoiding the eyes of the heavily armed warriors she
passed.  Carrying an electronic clipboard, she took a turn and headed toward
the offices of the chancellor.  A handful of guards blocked the doorway into
the main office.  One of them raised his hand at her approach.  “What’s your
business?”
     “Tactical information for the general,” she replied in a no-nonsense
tone, holding out her identification.
     The soldier studied her identification a moment.  Then, nodding, he
moved aside and motioned for her to enter.  She stepped down several stairs
and entered the main office, finding General Kah seated at the desk.  Krohan
and another, younger Klingon officer were bent over the desk, studying a
holographic map display.  All three of them looked up as the woman
approached.
     “What is it?” Kah demanded.
     “Data on ships and armaments, as you requested, general,” the woman
replied, extending the clipboard.
     “Good,” the general replied, taking the clipboard.  She flipped on the
display and sat back in her chair,  pondering the readout.  The Klingon
woman watched the general closely, keenly aware of the small weapon hidden
beneath her tunic, its cold metal pressing against her skin.  Krohan looked
up, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as the tall woman continued to hover
there.
     “Is there something else?” he suddenly demanded, his hand falling to
rest on the handle of his sidearm.

                                                      ************
     Commander Terhg watched the doorway of the relay station for any sign
of movement within.  Beside him, his second-in-command also watched from the
relative safety of their position, prostrate in the high grass of the field.
The officer consulted his chronometer.  “Two full cycles now, commander.”
     Terhg pondered his options.  No telling how well armed the enemy was,
or how many were hiding within the structure.  They had the tactical
advantage, to be sure, with only one way in or out of the building.  His own
men, on the other hand, made fairly easy targets in the open spaces of the
field.  Left to his own devices, Terhg would have simply leveled the
building with the transport’s weapons array.  Constrained as he was by the
general’s order to capture the Federation emissary alive and unharmed, Tergh
was having a difficult time deciding how to proceed.
     Indecision cost him dearly.
     A crunch of underbrush caused the two men to whirl about.  They caught
a fleeting glimpse of animal-skin clothing and deeply set eyes burning with
predatory ferocity.  Their surprise was brief, vanquished by a flash of
metal.  Blood flew through the air, relieving the two men of their lives
with barely a sound made.  As swiftly as they had appeared, the attackers
disappeared once more into the underbrush.

                                                  *************
     Corry crouched in a corner of the relay station.  Her eyes strayed
briefly to Kerla’s inert form, stretched out near the communications
console, before moving quickly back to the open doorway.  She deliberately
loosened her grip on the heavy pistol she held aimed at the door, realizing
that she was holding it so tightly that her fingers were going numb.  She
blinked, shaking her head, as droplets of sweat threatened to blur her
vision.  Long minutes of silence only served to heighten her fear of the
attack which must eventually come.
     Come on, you bastards, she thought.  Let’s get it over with.
     Without warning, an enormous, dark figure loomed in the doorway.  Corry
uttered a terrified noise, her finger convulsing on the trigger.  Energy
bolts flew from her weapon, none of them coming anywhere near their intended
target.
     “Hey!” a voice called out in perfect Federation Standard.  “Hold your
fire!”
     Corry released the trigger, blinking in surprise as a Federation
officer pushed his way past the enormous Klingon blocking the doorway.  He
crossed to her and knelt to look at her more closely.  “Corinne Rousseau?”
     She nodded, gazing in wonder at the first human face she’d seen
in...days? Weeks?
     “Are you all right?”
     She nodded again.
     He smiled, reaching to carefully lift the weapon from her hands.
“Captain Hikaru Sulu, starship Excelsior.”

  Chapter Fourteen

     In a blur of movement, the Klingon woman reached beneath her tunic,
drawing the weapon she had hidden there.
     “Assassin!” General Kah shouted in alarm.  “Krohan!”
     Before she could bring her weapon to bear, the Klingon woman was seized
by the young Klingon officer, and the two began to struggle violently for
control of the weapon.  General Kah leaped to her feet, her hand reaching
for a button on the desk.  An energy bolt stopped her cold, her lifeless
form dropping to the floor like a marionette with the strings suddenly cut,
disappearing from sight behind the chancellor’s desk.  Another bolt put an
end to the hand-to-hand combat.  The young Klingon officer collapsed at the
woman’s feet, a look of surprise frozen on his face.
     Krohan lowered his weapon.  The Klingon woman stared at him in
amazement.  “But you...” she uttered, “you are loyal to Kah!”
     “Yes,” he replied, stuffing his weapon back into its holster.  He gazed
down at the general’s body a long moment, then looked up at the  bewildered
eyes of the Klingon woman.  “She did not understand.”
     “Understand?”
     “That in order for the Empire to rise again, the Klingon race must
survive,” he told her with stern conviction.
     She nodded agreement, her face still betraying amazement.  Krohan
crouched low, gazing down at the general’s body.  “Forgive me, my Lady,” he
uttered softly.  “In the next world, perhaps you will avenge my betrayal.
But for now, we must save our people.”

                                                 **************
     Corry stepped out of the way as several of the primitive Klingon
warriors carried Kerla aboard the transport.  She looked over at Captain
Sulu.  “I don’t understand how you got them to help you.”
     Sulu motioned toward Officer Makkon.  “He did all the talking.”
     “It seems they were already searching for you,” Makkon told her.  The
three huge Klingons reemerged from the transport, and the forwardmost
exchanged brief remarks with Makkon.  Corry immediately recognized one of
them from the day their transport had crashed in the lake, and found her
face flushing furiously as the big man stared down at her, his dark eyes
sparkling.
     “They were unaware of the situation,” Makkon continued.  “They are
anxious to commence relocation negotiations with the Federation.”  He looked
down at Corry.  “I assured them that you would return to negotiate the
treaty.”
     Corry looked stunned.  “Who, me?”
     “It is why they agreed to help us recover you,” Makkon replied. He
paused, frowning at Corry’s discomfort.  “I gave them my word of honor.”
     “Sure, okay,” Corry uttered in resignation, desiring only to get under
way.  “I’d love to.”
     Makkon turned to relay her message to the Klingons.  They rumbled
approvingly.  The big Klingon offered Corry a toothy grin, then the three of
them turned and tromped away, swiftly disappearing into the forest.  Corry
followed Officer Makkon into the transport.  He directed her aft, heading
toward the cockpit.  Sulu secured the hatch as the engines fired to life,
and within a few moments the transport was speeding away from the surface of
the planet and out of Kronos’ fragile atmosphere.  Kerla was reclined in one
of the passenger seats, and Corry came over to check on his condition.  He
did not stir, his breathing shallow and labored.  Corry rested her hand on
Kerla's, inspiring a frown from Captain Sulu.
     “He’ll be fine once we get him to Excelsior,” Sulu told her.  “We have
an excellent medical staff.”
     She looked at him over her shoulder.  “Have they ever treated a
Klingon?”
     “After Chancellor Gorkon was assassinated, the Federation updated their
sick bay systems to include Klingon physiology.” Sulu frowned once more as
Corry continued to hold the Klingon's hand, and experienced a strange
discomfort at the sight of the Federation woman touching the Klingon with
such obvious concern.
     What the hell did they do to her? he wondered inwardly.
     “Captain Sulu!”
     Sulu rose and moved quickly to the cockpit.  “What is it?”
     “We have a problem,” Makkon informed him, indicating a small screen in
the lower right-hand corner of the viewport.  Seven large objects converged
on the display, Klingon words scrolling below in bright orange letters.
Sulu didn’t have to read Klingon to recognize the familiar shape of the
objects.
     “Klingon warships,” he breathed.