Poker Interrupted

"Yeah, so?"

Halvorsen dropped on him.

She had been lucky, as she scrambled up the slope to the side, that she had not dislodged any stones or otherwise made any noises that would have given her away. She had been even more lucky that O'Leary had been partly sheltering beneath an overhanging rock, giving her the chance to get above him.

The landing was heavy, partly knocking the wind out of both of them. O'Leary's pistol dropped from his hand as her weight slammed him into the ground, falling out of easy reach. But the fight was far from over.

They grappled on the ground, kicking up sand and small stones as they did so. At last, O'Leary managed to push her away, and they both leapt to their feet, facing each other. Halvorsen realised that her phaser had come loose in the struggle - and only now wondered why she just hadn't shot him when she had the chance. It had fallen away down the slope, and O'Leary lunged for his own fallen weapon instead.

He snatched his hand away as a beam of energy hit the blaster, and it exploded in a shower of sparks. He looked up to see Adjur standing there, a short distance away, already holstering her pistol. O'Leary looked puzzled, but Halvorsen realised what had just happened.

This was a duel, like the one in the gym, or so Adjur saw it. She had just been evening up the odds. She wouldn't interfere now, not until one of them had fallen.

O'Leary evidently had no such compunction, and pulled a knife from his belt, lunging at the human woman, sweeping it in a wide arc, and forcing her to dodge out of the way. He slashed a couple more times, but with no more luck, and she managed to kick a leg out, trying to knock him over.

The move failed, but it unbalanced him just enough for her to step behind him, and grab onto his knife arm. He kicked back, and jabbed his free hand towards her eyes. This was a man who clearly fought dirty, and there would be no referee to break up the fight this time. O'Leary would fight on for as long as he was able.

Halvorsen dodged out of the way of her opponent's attempted eye-gouge, spinning him round as she still gripped onto his right arm. For a second, she was back in the gym, fighting an enraged Klingon, and blind instinct took over.

She kicked the man's legs out from under him, flinging them both to the ground, twisting his arm around, smashing into his elbow with her free hand with enough force to hurt even a Klingon. There was an audible snap, and O'Leary screamed in agony.

"You broke my fucking arm!" he yelled, letting out a stream of further profanity as he writhed on the ground.

Halvorsen got to her feet, kicking the fallen knife away, although she suspected there was no further need to do so.

"I thought you'd shoot him," said Adjur, walking up to join her standing over their prisoner, pistol now levelled again.

"Maybe I'm getting a little bit Klingon."

"Didn't say I didn't approve."

-***-

Halvorsen had cleaned her uniform down, and was wondering what to do for the evening, when the buzzer at the door to her cabin sounded. She opened it to see Laska standing there, a slight smile on her face. "I hear congratulations are in order," she said.

"Thank you," replied the human, "O'Leary is now in custody, and we should be transferring him to the Endeavour tomorrow night for trial and punishment."

"Yes. He's in a secure area near my sick bay. It's where we hold disgraced warriors. We don't have much call for other prisoners. And his arm will heal in time. Although he keeps asking for something called 'pain-killers'. I imagine that those are not as interesting as they sound."

"No, I shouldn't think so."

"Anyway, I came to see you because the Captain wants to thank you for a mission completed. You are honoured; she will see you in her quarters."

"Of course. I am honoured, indeed. Lead the way."

The Captain, it turned out, warranted a proper suite on board the Tarantula. The main room was decorated in what Halvorsen supposed must be Klingon style, with decorative tapestries on the walls, along with a bat'leth, a selection of knives, and what appeared to be a number of trophies. Two doors led off it, presumably leading to a bedroom and bathroom, although both were, of course, shut.

Rel'kor was already there, holding a goblet in his hand, and looking slightly put out. There were three similar goblets on the table in the centre of the room, and, as she entered, the Captain stepped forward to hand one to Halvorsen, gesturing to Laska to take a third, before she picked up the remaining one herself. The human woman caught a frown on the First Officer's face as this happened, glancing at Laska as if he had not expected her to be joining them. If the medic noticed, though, she gave no sign.

"A great success," said Adjur, "now we have Starfleet on our side, at least for a little while. A prudent warrior welcomes allies as much as she does foes to fight. Qapla'!"

So saying, she downed the contents of the goblet in one gulp, and the other Klingons joined in, prompting Halvorsen to do so as well. It was fiery, obviously alcoholic, yet with some fruity flavour behind the kick that was not entirely unpleasant. Even so, she barely managed to rasp out the "Qapla'!" response as it burned its way down her throat.

"I know that you require no reward beyond our prisoner himself," said the Captain, "but it is the Klingon way to celebrate after victory, and after new alliances. So, why not an evening's entertainment?" Rel'kor stiffened, and she waved a hand towards him, "not the opera quartet, I think." He visibly relaxed, and even Halvorsen had to stifle a small grin.

"No, something different," Adjur went on, "in honour of our guest. I received a communication from your vessel, Lt. Halvorsen. When we collected you. Details of a human pastime. Quite different to those of my people, but why not?"

Halvorsen frowned. What was this? It made no sense.

"Tonight," said Adjur, "we play the human game of 'poker'. One of your pilots kindly sent me the rules," she pulled what looked like a newly replicated deck of cards from a pocket, and held it up.

A cold chill ran down the human's spine, as she realised what had happened. Lugmilla. She was going to kill the Tellarite woman when she got back. But what could she say now? If she explained what had happened, it would put Starfleet in a bad light, and, worse still, might even make the Klingon captain look a fool in front of two of her officers. Doubly so, if, as she suspected, Lugmilla had sent across the rules for the variant that she had been playing with the other three so recently.

Which, knowing her, was guaranteed.

Halvorsen had only one hope, which was that one of the other Klingons would decline, letting her avoid the game with honour.

"Cards?" asked Rel'kor suspiciously, "they don't look dangerous. Where is the sport? How does this game work?"

"You arrange the cards in patterns. The objective is to have matching numbers, or sequential ones. I have written out the scoring," Adjur tapped a PADD lying on the table. "It is simple enough."

"And the sport...?" prompted the first officer again.

"It is a human game. They divert themselves with things other than physical contest."

"Tokens? Like Ferengi?" He did not sound impressed, and Halvorsen silently prayed for him to back out.

"Not quite. Whoever has the lowest score removes an item of clothing. And so it continues. An unusual game to us, but perhaps not by human standards."

There was a long silence. Rel'kor's initial reaction was clearly that this was not a proper game. Even if Halvorsen could not persuade the Captain that three players were insufficient, at least it would be much better with him out of the room. He had to leave. He just had to.

But then, the first officer looked across at Laska, eyeing up the Amazonian Klingon's figure. "And it finishes, when...?" he asked.

"When one of the players has just a single item of clothing remaining, the game ends. And whoever retains the most at that point wins."

Rel'kor's eyes dropped to Laska's chest, which the human realised, was somewhat prominent even beneath the armour that the medic wore.

"One item?" mused the Klingon man, and then grinned widely, "as you say, why not?"

Halvorsen looked across at Laska in desperation. Surely the medical officer was not going to allow herself to be ogled in that way? If Adjur, for whatever reason, had already decided to go along with this, surely Laska would not do the same?

"Sounds different," said Laska, crushing the human's last glimmer of hope, "I'm in."

"Good. Then we are agreed."

Adjur pulled out a chair, and sat down at the table, indicating to the others to take the three chairs already arranged around it. Rel'kor immediately took the one opposite Laska, leaving Halvorsen facing the Captain.

She sat down, her hands suddenly clammy. There was no way to avoid this. With rising horror, she realised that she could not even report Lugmilla for what she had done. To do that would require an admission, actually giving evidence. She could not let anyone else know about this. Ever.

"Why don't you make the first deal?" asked Adjur, sliding the deck across the metal surface of the table towards Halvorsen. The human woman felt those dark eyes boring into her like phaser beams, appraising how she acted. She had no choice but to continue.

The shuffled the deck a little uncertainly, never having played any form of card game since childhood, and then dealt the cards round to each of the Klingons. Each of them examined their hands, and Rel'kor grimaced, growling under his breath. The concept of a 'poker face' evidently eluded him, although, to be fair, it was hard to see how much difference it would make to this particular game.

Halvorsen herself had a pair of nines, which she suspected wasn't that bad for a first deal. It probably meant that she was ahead of Rel'kor at least, which would be a relief. She had no desire to see him even partly undressed, but, all things considered, it was better than the alternatives. Her objective, she realised, trying to think now that the initial anger had faded, was to end up with at least her vest and trousers by the time somebody else stripped to their last garment. And, for the sake of moral decency, it would be best if that somebody was the first officer.

The draw proceeded around the table, and Rel'kor glared at his new cards with anger, actually glancing across at her, as if wondering if she'd deliberately slipped him a bad hand. She tried to ignore that; she wouldn't have had any idea how to fix the hand, even if she had wanted to. He'd have the deal next himself, anyway.

When she received a second eight, giving her two pairs, Halvorsen actually thought she'd won the first round. But then Laska turned over three queens, her wide grin a flash of white teeth against her dark face. Neither the Captain nor Rel'kor had developed any hand at all, which showed that the former, at least, really did have a poker face. But then, Adjur at least had an Ace.

"A pair of boots counts as one item," said the Captain, as the male Klingon stood, a sour expression on his face, "I don't know why. Perhaps it's to just to make the game go quicker."

Rel'kor pulled off his heavy combat boots with obvious bad grace. It looked for a moment as if he would angrily throw them across the room, but then he evidently remembered whose room it was, and placed them down by his chair with a heavy thud instead.

The Klingon, it turned out, was not wearing any socks, revealing a pair of bare feet that were, unsurprisingly, as human as his hands. It was a minor point, but, Halvorsen realised, a small advantage in her favour. In fact, since he didn't have one of those great sashes that some Klingons wore, she wondered how many items of clothing Rel'kor was actually wearing. Perhaps this potential humiliation might be over quicker than she'd thought.

Fingers crossed, anyway.

"Now it is my turn," said the first officer, as she passed the deck over to him.

He fumbled the first shuffle, dropping some of the cards and had to pick them up again for a second attempt, heavy eyebrows scowling as he did so. He was obviously even less familiar with them than Halvorsen herself, but even so, he succeeded on the second attempt and dealt them round the table.

After the draw, she had two pairs. They were low - fives and threes - but that had to be enough, didn't it? Rel'Kor had a grin on his face this time, so maybe not. She looked across at the Klingon Captain, unflappable as always, and hoped she didn't look as nervous as she felt. Adjur turned over her cards.

Three jacks.

Halvorsen turned to Laska, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She rather liked the medical officer, but right now she needed her to lose the hand. Yet, instead, she was leaning back in her chair, a slight smile on her face. She casually flipped the cards over.

"High Queen," she said, unnecessarily, her voice showing a complete lack of concern that Halvorsen couldn't help but think showed a lack of moral decency under the circumstances, "could be me."

Rel'kor let out a barking laugh, and Halvorsen felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She showed her two pair, and after the first officer revealed that he had only slightly better himself, Laska stood up, still looking quite relaxed - at least so far as she'd ever noticed Klingons were.

The medical officer placed one of her feet on the chair, and slid her hands slowly down the tight leather of her trousers to the boot, before sliding it off. She wasn't wearing socks, either, but Halvorsen had mixed feelings about the way the Klingon woman had chosen to take her boots off. On the one hand, it looked provocative, hardly the sort of appropriate behaviour she approved of, but, on the other hand, it seemed to entrance Rel'kor, which at least meant his attention was off the human. Hopefully it would stay that way, especially if - heaven forfend - the next few hands went badly for her.

Adjur was the next to take the deck, shuffling it thoroughly, with far greater dexterity than her first officer had managed. She dealt the cards swiftly round the table, before lifting her own hand, and looking at it expressionlessly. A professional poker player could doubtless read the little Klingon, but Halvorsen certainly couldn't.

She had no clue what the Captain was thinking, although the same couldn't be said for the other two. Laska let out what appeared to be a sarcastic huff, and shook her head slightly, while the first officer leaned across the table to her, evidently delighted with whatever he had just been handed.

"Looks like you'll be out of your armour before I am," he told the medic.

"Ha! The game's still early yet, you know. There's plenty of time for you to lose."

"We'll see."

"Anyway... gah, four cards for me."

"Huh, got to be bad."

Laska made the draw. "Better now, though," she said, leaning back with a sneer, "but we'll see."

Even after the draw, though, Halvorsen had no better than a pair of Kings. That wouldn't have been a winning hand in either of the previous rounds, but it wouldn't have lost, either. Nonetheless, she felt relief when Laska revealed - to Rel'kor's evident delight - that she only had a pair of sixes.

With three jacks, it turned out that he had the right to look smug, but then his smile faded.

"Pair of fours," said Adjur, calmly as she revealed her own hand.

Everyone looked to her, her first officer looking slightly embarrassed, Laska's expression unreadable. Halvorsen wasn't sure what she felt herself.

"So," said the captain.

She placed her elbows on the table, hands raised... and pulled off her gloves, laying them down by her side. Her mouth twitched, and, for once, Halvorsen could actually see a twinkle of humour in those dark eyes. The other two Klingons looked relieved, seemingly having forgotten about the gloves as much as the human had.

"Your deal, Laska."

When she looked at her cards, Halvorsen realised that her luck might finally have run out. She had nothing, just a high queen. She reflected that each of the Klingons had lost once each so far, and that it was arguably her turn to do so. Statistically, of course, assuming that nobody messed up their decision on the draw, she was no more likely to lose than anyone else. But it didn't feel like that, and it was only Rel'kor's evident look of disgust and Laska's pursed lips and frown that gave her any hope.

Her hand failed to develop after the draw, although none of the Klingons looked very happy with what they'd got either. Not that you could tell with Adjur, admittedly. With a sinking feeling she turned over her cards, revealing the high queen.

"Huh," said Laska, frowning, but didn't elaborate.

Rel'kor, on the other hand, didn't respond, just grunted with distaste as he revealed that he only had a pair of fives himself. What had he got to be displeased with? He hadn't lost, and that was all that really mattered in this game. The reason for Laska's apparent confusion, however, became apparent when she became the last of the four to reveal her hand - another high queen.

"What happens?" asked the medical officer, looking between Adjur and Halvorsen, apparently thinking that the latter at least, had played the game before and knew what the rules were.

"It's a tie," observed Rel'kor, "perhaps they both...?"

Adjur jabbed a finger at her PADD, looking at it intently. "Hmm," she said, after a little while, "that makes sense." Her dark eyes swept over the revealed cards. "Second highest card decides the tie. So... ahah... our human guest."

It could be a lot worse, reflected Halvorsen, as she stood up. The problem was, it quite likely would later on. She had put this off for three hands, and it had been inevitable she would lose eventually. Perhaps, though, she should have said something earlier? She couldn't think how, without making Starfleet look bad, and avoiding that that was surely her highest priority.

Trying to look as calm as possible, she removed her boots and slid them under the table. Laska raised her eyebrows, and Rel'kor followed her gaze downwards. Oh, yes, her socks.

"What are those for?" asked the first officer.

"It's... just a human custom."

"Well, clothing is clothing," observed Adjur, "your deal, I believe."

If Rel'kor had really harboured any suspicions that she had somehow rigged the cards against him on her first deal, they clearly vanished this time round. "Qa'pla!" he shouted cheerfully as he threw his cards down at the end of the hand to reveal, of all things, a flush.

It turned out that Laska was the only one to fail to develop a hand that round, to the first officer's evident delight. "I told you that you wouldn't need that armour much longer," he said, leaning back in his chair and grinning, as if his victory was somehow due to more than mere luck, as seemed likely.

Laska stood, and Halvorsen realised that what had appeared to be a wide leather belt around her waist was actually a fastening for the medic's moulded body armour; she couldn't take off one without the other. She undid the heavy buckle slowly, with what the security officer couldn't help but feel was entirely too much relish, and separated the parts of her armour, thrusting her chest forward as she did so.

The human glanced across at Rel'kor, her lip curling in disapproval at his evident interest at just how taut the dark grey cloth of Laska's shirt was across her buxom figure. Men could be so crude, and Laska seemed to be playing to that, in a way that was surely inappropriate for one of her rank. But then, looking back at the medic, she saw the dark Klingon give a quick wink in her direction - Rel'kor's focus of attention was apparently too low for him to notice - and she thought she understood.