Surefoot 79: Killing Honour

Yes.

But logic failed to make his legs move as he watched the second Klingon attack Timbrel, the gentle equinoid... easily throwing the Klingon over his shoulder to land hard on the classroom floor.

The first Klingon drew his own knife and charged now, but Timbrel was able to easily block and parry the strikes the Klingon made despite being unarmed.

But then the second Klingon rose and attacked from behind.

And Srithik's legs still didn't work. This wasn't logical. There was something wrong with him. That was the only rational explanation. He was ill.

At the head of the class, Timbrel dodged a strike from one of his opponents, allowing him to pick up a heavy chair and swing it up and over the head of the second Klingon, bringing it down hard on him, and leaving Timbrel to jab at the first Klingon's throat, making him stagger back and drop his knife, as Timbrel finished him off with a vicious kick of his hoof into the Klingon's abdomen, doubling him over.

Immediately Timbrel stepped back, offering to his opponents, "I am sorry." Then he turned and drew up to the children in the back. "We are leaving for the Evacuation Point in the Park. Please take hands and form a chain, do not let go, and follow me." He looked at Srithik. "Are you hurt, Master Srithik?"

Srithik was about to answer in the affirmative, when his body found it could in fact move again for some reason, taking Abby's hand as instructed, but he did ask, "Should you not retrieve their weapons for your own use, Sir?"

Timbrel glanced back. "I have no need or taste for them... as I have proven. My priority is get all of you to safety - no, Charles, leave the ball and take Oxa's hand, please - now, everyone come along." He saw the Klingons beginning to stir. "Hurry, please."

*

Deck 1 - Officers' Quarters:

Professor Tallus had been sitting at her table, examining a shard of pottery from Axyllus, protecting it within a sterile force field and only handling it with antigrav gloves, trying to focus. But she couldn't keep from smiling to herself as she listened to Sreen Hrelle, sitting nearby in the playpen with Tallus' grandson Jaxan, the Caitian babbling away telling some story, broken periodically with made-up songs, while Jaxan sat entranced, occasionally clapping his tiny hands.

I should sell tickets, Tallus thought to herself, the Roylan academic happy to help out the Hrelles... especially as she was already minding Jaxan, too young to go to the station school with his older sister Naida. But Tallus really had to have a talk with that son of hers; Weynik needed to settle down and find a mate. A part of her wondered if he still hadn't let go of the memories of his late wife Fala-

Something from outside the window caught her eye, and she looked behind in time to see a vessel of Klingon design decloak, with white glowing projectors on the wingtips. Seconds later, the lights went out.

So did the force field and antigrav gloves protecting the Axyllan pottery. It dropped unceremoniously to the table, the ancient clay shattering.

Great.

"Oooh," Sreen cooed. "Seepy Time! Lights out!"

Jaxan looked up. "Gamma?"

Tallus rose to her feet, the loss of the artefact forgotten as she stared out at the Klingon ship. She had tangled with more than a few of them during previous expeditions, and she knew that this power loss was obviously tied into it.

Transporter beams appeared in her living room, and she rose to her feet, stepping between the intruders and the infants as she took in the new arrivals: Klingon males, armoured, carrying their bat'leths in one hand as they approached, one of them looking down at the diminutive Roylan... and laughing. "What are you? Some house elf?"

"Hab SoSlI' Quch," she replied calmly, studying the men, the surrounding furniture, calculating the best way to bring them down, take their weapons or get to her own swords on the wall display, and get the children out.

Her curse made the Klingons stop laughing., the other one sneering, "You talk big. The only big thing about you!"

"Oooh, a joke about my size. Never heard that before. What are you doing here?"

The Klingons looked past her to the children. "We detected children in this room. Is one of them Klingon?"

"No."

One of the Klingons made a sound and tried to walk around Tallus to draw closer for himself.

Tallus struck him in the side of his leg with her foot, her Heavyworlder muscle mass driving a crippling blow, while she turned to the other. "So tell me, what do you plan to do with this Klingon child you're looking for?"

The other Klingon looked down at his companion that she had disabled with seeming ease, but then quickly recovered, "The House of Uklass has lost honour because of the existence of a HabwI' half-breed and its mother!"

Tallus nodded in comprehension. "Ahh, so they seek Karo'kar from the mother and child?"

He reacted, eyes wide. "You do understand..."

"Oh, absolutely."

Then she drove her fist into his groin.

The other Klingon doubled over in agony, as she leapt on top of him, reaching under the collar of his armour to press at selected nerve endings, making him shudder as if electrocuted, before passing out.

Then the Professor climbed off of him. "But you're not murdering any mother and child on my watch."

In the playpen, the children clapped with delight at the display.

She offered her audience a bow, before seeking out some extra-strong climbing ropes to tie up the Klingons, and then deciding on her next course of action.

*

Deck 5 - Academy Dining Hall:

"Move," Kalong ordered the old Vulcan before him.

It should have been an easy, straightforward task. Once the Uklass ships activated the Deadlock Field around the station, Kalong and his fellows were beamed onto the deck containing the Starfleet cadets. Then they herded the cadets into the dining hall, and kept them under control with disruptor rifles and awaited the signal.

The Starfleet Academy brats were as typically meek and compliant - Klingon Academy cadets would have overwhelmed any invaders in seconds - but their leader, some bearded old Vulcan, seemed to be senile. He stood near the replicators, hands behind his back, staring at Kalong and replying loudly, "Ma-Klingon a mane, a itlhamile ka dithunya tša go šitiša."

Nearby, Galtuk looked over at the exchange with annoyed amusement. "What is he babbling about?"

"How should I know? His Universal Translator must be malfunctioning." Slower and louder now, Kalong pointed to the assembled captive cadets. "Move... over... there... you... old... bastard!"

"Ba re boloka mo, ma-Klingon a mangwe felotsoko seteišeneng," the Vulcan replied, again loud and clear, staring straight at him.

Galtuk laughed. "Maybe he's senile?"

Annoyed by his cousin's reaction, Kalong shoved the tip of the disruptor rifle under the Vulcan's chin. "Is he right, petaQ? Shall I end your misery now?"

"Rotogela go Operations, ba tsebiše ka boemo, adima thušo."

Kalong pushed the weapon further into the Vulcan's throat, snarling, "Three... Two..."

"Ah, my Universal Translator has finally reset." The Vulcan stepped back. "I am Commander Haluk, in charge of these cadets. Please excuse the temporary malfunction, I can understand you now. I will sit with the others." Then he stepped around Kalong and joined the rest.

Kalong sneered at his departure... taking no notice of the vent that had been directly behind where Haluk had stood, or the fact that the panel had been hastily replaced as the Klingons had beamed in.

*

On the other side, in a Jefferies Tube, Cadets C'Riir and Gela sat on either side of the equipment kit they were using as part of Commander Haluk's punishment on them. Gela shook his head, his voice low. "What was that all about? Why was Haluk babbling?"

"He wasn't," C'Riir replied soberly. "He was speaking in Old Caitian. I never knew he understood it."

"Then why didn't his UT automatically translate it?"

The Caitian looked at him. "I heard a rumour that Professor S'Li, the Caitian who helped develop the modern Universal Translator over fifty years ago, put a secret algorithm in the matrices that prevents Old Caitian from being translated or stored, so our people could use it in emergencies-" He shook his head. "Look, never mind that! Commander Haluk knew we were still back here! He was sending me secret messages!"

"What was he telling you?"

He looked at his friend. "'Four Klingons, armed with bat'leths... They are keeping us here, other Klingons elsewhere on station... Ascend to Operations, inform them of the situation, lend assistance.'"

The Ferengi gasped. "Klingons! What in Debt's name are they doing here?"

C'Riir raised a shushing finger to his snout. "Get moving, we have our orders!"

"Who put you in charge, Furball?"

"Haluk, when he spoke to me in my own people's language!"

"Only because Ferenginese is too complex for most hyoomanoids!"

"What's complex about it? 95% of it is just versions of 'No Refunds'." He smacked his friend across one of his ears. "Get moving, or I'll climb up ahead of you, and you get to stare at my ass and feel my tail in your face all the way up!"

Gela sneered in disgust and started crawling.

*

Deck 12 - Hangar Bay:

Sternhagen sat on the floor of the huge enclosure, the cold reaching her ass even through the insulated material of her Starfleet uniform, a discomfort seemingly not shared by her fellow captives: Station Chief David Sakai, currently seemingly distracted by making his fingers move and tap each other in seemingly random sequences, and the Engineering crew, a mix of Starfleet and the Paserak refugees Hrelle found living here when they reopened for business.

While around them, Klingons with bat'leths and blades milled about, growling and menacing. Sternhagen watched them, some of them focusing on the Ulyanov, dominating the centre of the Bay, empty for safety reasons, the crew billeted on the upper decks of the station.

It seemed like hours since the power went out everywhere, and the emergency chemical lights came to life just in time for a dozen armed Klingons to appear, with none of the Starfleet hand phasers or combadges working. Their captors remained silent, unless someone tried to rise or speak up.

"Enough of this crap," she muttered, raising her voice now. "Hey, Shithead!"

One of the Klingons emerging from the Station Chief's Office with a scavenged bottle of Saurian brandy stopped and growled menacingly in her direction.

"Oh, so you know your name," she continued, undeterred. "You must be one of the top-of-the-line models. Clearly you prodigies haven't read the Handbook."

The Klingon approached, drinking from the curve-necked bottle and wiping his mouth on his sleeve before demanding, "What are you talking about, Hag?"

She leaned back against the Bay wall behind her. "The Bad Guys' Handbook. When you take the Good Guys prisoner, you're supposed to taunt them by telling them your plans. You're really beginning to disappoint me."

He sneered at her. "Typical human arrogance: assuming you're the 'Good Guys' here."

"Oh? Why don't you prove me wrong and tell us what it's all about?"

He raised his rifle in her direction. "I have a better idea: why don't you shut your Hag's mouth, before we order you and a few more of you out into space?" He glanced at Sakai, who continued to play with his fingers, as were the Paserak nearby. "What are they doing?"

"Them? Meditative exercise taught by our Counselors, to help relieve stress and anxiety. Personally, I prefer bashing in the brains of Klingons. Wanna help me out? Bet you don't use yours much."

The Klingon laughed and walked away, declaring over his shoulder, "You have gall, Hag, I'll give you that. We admire gall."

She offered his back her middle finger before turning to Sakai, her voice low now. "Well?"

He continued to manipulate his fingers, but looked ahead at the Paserak sitting opposite - in particular their young leader, Turikana Benjo, who was gesturing quickly. "The Paserak think they're using a duonetic-type dampening field, affecting power, communications, weapons, the works."

"Thanks. I figured all that out myself." Sternhagen had known of the Paserak for years, of course, having served on the station and in this sector, but had always been wary of their motives, despite Hrelle's assurances. That a pack of them had snuck onboard the station when it was shut down and had been living here all along didn't put her at ease. The revelation that they also employed a sign language amongst themselves to covertly communicate in the presence of outsiders was the cherry on top.

Sakai, on the other hand, had embraced their presence, their expertise... and evidently, their secret sign language. "Any idea why they're here?"

"Not yet."

"Any idea what we can do to take back control?"

"Not yet."

She looked up at the Ulyanov, which was also affected by the dampening field, and had a skeleton crew trapped inside. But it was locked up, and none of them could make it inside before being shot.

And then there was the issue of the life support being down while under the influence of the field; while the existing oxygen would last for some time, the temperature, especially in the Hangar Bay, would quickly drop... not a good state for reptoids like the Paserak, or for those with old bones like Sakai and herself.

They had a duty to do something, no matter how desperate. She could only hope that before it came down to that, Hrelle was somewhere, fully aware of the situation and already halfway to solving it.

*

Deck 3 - Hospital:

Kami had been in the midst of offering her reassurances when the lights went out, leaving them in darkness, though the Caitians' vision compensated. Hrelle rose to his feet immediately and tapped his combadge. "Hrelle to Ops: what's happening? Ops? Anyone?"

Beside him, Kami and then Blum and Masterson tried their own, just as the emergency chemical lights came to life, and Hrelle turned to peer through the conference room windows at the rest of the Hospital, as confused staff turned to see a half-dozen crimson transporter columns drop Klingons into their midst.

And begin striking out with their bat'leths.

In the main room, Eydiir turned to see the Klingons emerge, knocking over tables and trays as they moved in all directions towards the Security crewmen, who were drawing their phasers and trying - and failing - to fire. In response, the Klingons attacked, stabbing and slashing. One of them looked at her. "Run away, woman! You cannot hope to stand against a Klingon warr-"

She never let him finish, as she reached inside her nurse's smock, drawing out her kligat, her crescent-shaped Capellan throwing blade, and flung it at him, one end striking his right temple and sending him falling, even as Eydiir reached him to finish him off and retrieve the blade.

"I see them!" another Klingon cried out over an old-fashioned communicator. "Lord Uklass, they are in the Hospital! Join us!"

Eydiir flung her blade at him now, before she was tackled from behind. She twisted around underneath her attacker, trying to strike upwards, but she had little purchase. Her attacker snarled from above as he raised a three pronged dagger-

A roar distracted him, and a second later, a heavy body slammed into him, removing him from Eydiir. She rose in time to see Commodore Hrelle force the dagger from the Klingon's hand - by breaking both - before slamming his head against the floor. "Get everyone into the Post-Op Ward and barricade yourselves!"

She rose, even as more transporter columns glowed with the promise of reinforcements from the enemy. Captain Blum and Kami emerged from the Conference Room and charged into the fray beside Hrelle, as Eydiir retreated, guiding the medical staff further back into the depths of this part of the Hospital.

Hrelle resisted the urge to tell his wife off for joining the fight - Caitians equalled Klingons for strength, and surpassed them in speed and agility, and he wasn't as young as he used to be - as he focused on the new arrivals, picking out the obvious leader: grey-maned, scarred, his House decorations on his armour marking him as the Head, Uklass.

Hrelle turned and roared at them, startling them enough to distract them before they attacked, before bellowing, "STOP THIS! NOW!"

Uklass glared past them to Jiyajh and her partner and child, baring jagged teeth as he snarled, "This is not your fight, Commodore. Stand aside."

He glanced at his fallen crewmen, seeing them rising, holding their wounds but still mobile, before he studied the new arrivals; Uklass had two Klingons flanking him closely, their scents similar enough to suggest to Hrelle close blood relations... but one appeared less... eager... than the other to be there. "That's not happening. Drop your weapons and surrender."

"Klingons do not surrender!" the Klingon on Uklass' left declared. "Stand aside, petaQs, or you will fall before our might, too!"

"Rein it in, pal," Blum warned. "No one's falling anywhere today but your side!"

"This is an internal Klingon matter, Starfleet," Uklass growled.

"It stopped being an internal Klingon matter the moment Dr Jiyajh and her family left Klingon space," Kami suddenly interrupted, her scent reeking of a tension greater than Hrelle expected, even given the situation. Then she added, in Old Caitian, "Esek, Misha is crawling towards them, getting closer."

Hrelle tensed, trying not to be caught looking past the Klingons... and confirmed what his wife had secretly told him: Misha was under the nearby biobeds, eyes fixed on the invaders, and trying to sneak closer, thinking he had to join in on the fight, not knowing the danger he was putting himself in, if the Klingons discovered him. And Kami and he couldn't warn him.

Mother's Cubs... "Lord Uklass, there is no need to fight. There is no need for anyone to fight. Dr Jiyajh and her partner and child have left the Klingon Empire, and they're not likely to ever come back. That must surely satisfy any sense of lost honour-"

"Then clearly you don't understand what this means to us," Uklass responded, pointing past Hrelle. "They have cast an unforgivable slur upon our family's honour. Only their deaths will balance the scales!"

Behind them, in the darkness, Misha was slowly crawling closer. Like it was some damn game. Stop, Son of Mine, please, please, please-

*

Deck R2 - Command Centre:

Zir lifted up a spare chair as she charged headlong against the arriving Klingons, while Salvo grabbed a pole holding the Federation flag, each woman silently choosing opponents closer to them.

Zir set aside her instinctive urge to give in to her fears and withdraw, her training taking over as she tightened her grip on the back of the chair, using its legs to counter and trap the curved edge of one of her opponent's bat'leths, letting her twist it to one side while she drove her boot into the groin of its owner.

Her second opponent snarled and charged, swinging up his own bat'leth in a high vertical - and dramatic-looking - arc. She dodged, letting the tip of the bat'leth come down and strike the carpeted floor with a sharp screech of protest as the tip of the weapon broke. Then she released her hold on the chair to pull a dagger from the sheath on her second opponent, slamming into him as she stabbed him repeatedly in the side, feeling the jagged blade pierce the vulnerable area below the Klingon's rib cage.

Her other opponent had recovered, and was pursuing her again, and she shoved her first opponent down as she adopted a defensive posture, stepping back and around, letting the Klingon swing out wildly, again and again, his beady eyes bright and angry. "Stand still, you coward!"