Beverly stood against the wall in the small mess hall with Lorn, each nursing their second tankard of bloodwine. The first had been quickly downed in a succession of toasts to the bravery of their fellow warriors. The second was being savoured as they took the opportunity to reflect on what had brought each to this point.

She leaned back against the narrow wall shelving that served as a table for those who actually remained in the room. Not ones for comfort at the best of times, the Klingon mess hall was designed to provide the crew with a place to acquire and devour their food as quickly as possible. No one lingered over their meals in the dark, almost claustrophobic room. Aside from the odd crewmember entering long enough to grab a plateful of food and leave, Beverly and Lorn were alone.

"Do you remember your first meal here?" Lorn asked as he sipped his drink.

"How could I forget?" Beverly replied as she shook her head at the memory. "Pagn and his friends decided to see how I would react to a little intimidation."

She had been at the serving table, loading her plate with her dinner when Pagn and his associates arrived. Pagn took the plate from her hands saying, "Your filth eat last." He laughed as each of his friends shoved her aside to get their own food.

Lorn chuckled as he replied, "There isn't a Klingon on board this ship who could have predicted what you did next."

Beverly blushed as she recalled how she allowed her temper to take over, overriding her Starfleet training, in order to prove herself worthy to the rough warriors she was travelling with.

Turning to Pagn, she grabbed the full platter from his hands, launched a string of scathing insults in Klingon, spat on his plate, and shoved it into his chest. It took a moment for the stunned disbelief to wear off; then Pagn reacted. With a low growl in his throat he tossed the plate aside and lunged at her.

Instantly every eye in the room was on the combatants. The cheers were for Pagn. The taunts were for the upstart Starfleet officer who dared to hire and serve with a Klingon mercenary crew.

Beverly dodged Pagn's lunge, letting his momentum carry him into the wall behind her. She quickly turned to face him, slipping into the ready stance Worf drilled into his Mok'Bara students. Noticing her readiness, Pagn approached more cautiously. When he made his move, Beverly was startled by his speed and ferocity.

He had his hands around her throat before she registered the sharp pain from her impact with the far wall. Staring into Pagn's snarling visage as stars began to obscure her vision, Beverly fought for air as she brought her knee up as hard as she could.

Pagn let out an angry roar and dropped Beverly to the deck. "PtaQ!" he swore as he hunched over his injured groin. Beverly barely had enough time to regain her feet before he charged at her again.

Beverly braced herself for the impact. At the last moment she ducked under his charge, sending Pagn flying over her back to land hard on the deck. Panting for breath, Beverly rested her hands on her knees as she waited for Pagn's next move.

She didn't have long to wait. Striking with the speed of an adder, Pagn's foot shot out and caught Beverly by surprise. Losing her balance, she tumbled to the deck and rolled over in time to avoid the vicious kick aimed at her abdomen. She tried to scramble away, but Pagn, having gained the upper hand, reached out and grabbed her leg in a painful grip.

He laughed as he pulled her back into the centre of the room. Beverly realised she was rapidly running out of options if she wanted to leave the fight without any serious injury. Opening her mouth to offer her submission, her words were cut off by the sudden placement of a hard, horned boot across her throat.

Pagn looked down at her and laughed. "You humans are weak. You are no match for a Klingon warrior." He watched as Beverly's face suffused with blood. "Are you prepared to beg for your pathetic life now?"

Beverly felt humiliated. She could hear the laughter and jeering of the Klingons in the mess hall and she knew she would lose every shred of respect or tolerance she may have had if she begged for her life. Her mission would be over before it had truly begun.

She felt Pagn reduce the pressure on her throat so she could speak. Taking in a precious breath of air, she scowled at him and used her last breath to utter the words, "Your mother was a Ferengi and your father was a Parnellian sea slug who had to pay for her services."

Beverly closed her eyes and waited for his boot to crush her windpipe. When the crushing pain didn't wipe her mind out forever, she opened one eye and cautiously peered above her. She was stunned to see Pagn gazing down at her. Even more shocking was the realization that his boot was no longer on her throat and he was holding his hand out to her.

Taking his hand, Beverly was pulled back to her feet and clapped on the back while the room erupted into laughter. Pagn laughed louder than the rest and roughly shook her as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Suppressing a wince, Beverly tried to smile as she rubbed her bruised throat.

"You have spirit, Doq," Pagn chuckled as he offered her a tankard of bloodwine. "There aren't many Klingons who would dare challenge me to fight, and while that may not reflect well on your intelligence, it does show you have courage. I am impressed that you refused to give in." He cast an appreciative glance up and down her battered and filthy frame. "You are pitifully weak for a Klingon, but you'll do."

Pagn looked around the room, raised his tankard and shouted, "Welcome aboard the Targ, Doq!"

Doq, she thought as she worked the bloodwine down her injured throat. Red.

Taking another sip of her bloodwine, Beverly absently rubbed her throat remembering the pain despite the passage of several weeks since her encounter with Pagn. She looked over at Lorn and grinned. "I never did get to eat my lunch that day."

Lorn chuckled and then grew serious. "I made up my mind about you before you boarded the Targ," he said as he swirled the wine in his tankard. "When I saw you try to fight Pagn I began to re-evaluate my opinion." He paused. "I decided you were worth watching."

"And?"

"And," Lorn chuckled, "while you are pitifully weak for a Klingon, you are tough for a human. I look forward to the upcoming mission."

"Speaking of which," Beverly said as she gulped down the last of her bloodwine, "I should finish my preparations. We've only got an hour before we arrive."

Lorn nodded. Setting his tankard down, he held out his right arm as he spoke, "May the warriors of Sto'VoKor strengthen your arm."

Beverly grasped his arm and replied, "May your deeds be sung in the Hall of Battle for generations."

The traditional blessings complete, the two warriors exited the mess hall to prepare for the battle to come.