Chapter 9

The air on the bridge of the Enterprise was filled with tension as Archer watched the forward view screen and the information it was giving him about their new "friends" coming to greet them.

"How long 'til they're in weapons range?" Archer asked.

"Ten minutes at present speed, sir." Came Malcolm's response. "Two Klingon battlecruisers."

"We're four days out from Klingon space." Archer observed. "What are they doing here?" Archer asked. "No one followed us, right?"

"No one that we know of." T'Pol answered. "Logic suggests this is a separate patrol from those that we engaged in the debris field." She then added, "The Klingons don't necessarily recognize territorial boundaries, Captain. They see the rest of the galaxy as theirs as well. They just haven't gotten to it yet." T'Pol responded.

"How long until the away team reaches the shuttlepod?" The captain asked again, contemplating another use of the transporter.

"I'm already picking up four..." T'Pol paused, "No, five bio-signs at the landing site. Captain, they're Klingon." She reported, concern for her crew mates coloring her otherwise dispassionate tone.

Trip, Shepherd, Travis, and Yoda all packed up as much as they could carry of the Atlantis team's supplies and had headed back to the shuttle pod on the other side of the settlement as quickly as they could, but it was still ten minutes later by the time they were on the move again. As fast as Yoda could move on his own, his stride was still considerably slower than the three taller men, but Trip wouldn't leave him and Travis behind to scout ahead again.

Shepherd had retrieved the weapon he had involuntarily left behind when the Enterprise had transported his team aboard; an antique, pellet and cartridge based rifle which could fire either single shot or multiple rounds in a second. Trip thought it looked like it could have been used in the last World War Earth had experienced the century before. The rifle was slung on a strap around Shepherd's neck with some care in addition to the strange looking pistol that was strapped to the man's leg using velcro fasteners.

"That's quite the antique you've got there, and it good shape too." Trip mentioned. "I'll bet our tactical officer would give anything to have a look at it."

"Thanks. Yeah, it belonged to my grandfather who got it from his dad. There aren't many of these old service weapons left in the colony. It's been kind of a tradition to take it out with us on missions." Shepherd explained. "I'd have hated to lose it."

"I'll bet." Trip responded. "How do you get ammunition for it?"

"Atlantis has some replication technology available, and we have trading partners in Pegasus that still use projectile weapons like this. From what Jennifer and her brother Rod tell me, the bullets for it aren't all that hard to make." Shepherd responded.

The four crossed the abandoned settlement carefully, laden down the Atlantis team's gear. Trip held the case with the zero point power module slung on a belt around his shoulder, while Travis and Shepherd each had their own load of whatever gear they could carry back to the pod in one trip. The three men had politely spared the aged, diminutive Yoda any burden other than his cane, although he had offered to carry what he could.

All of them were sweating profusely from the heat, and the extra weight. The cooling function on the starfleet desert uniforms had begun to be overwhelmed, and wet stains from their sweat seeped out and spread over their clothing.

"How… How much further?" Trip asked, breathing heavily.

"Not far." Travis responded, his own breathing becoming heavy. "Just on the other side of that building there." He said, pointing forward.

"Good. Cause when I get to the shuttlepod, I'm setting the environmental controls to 'arctic' permanently." Trip responded.

They rounded the building and were greeted by a less than welcoming "tera'ngan!" and "mev!"

Travis's universal translator attached to his uniform rendered the words as "humans!" and "stop!" As they pulled up to a stop to face five heavily armed Klingons with weapons drawn, their forehead plates pronounced and threatening, and fangs visible with lips pulled back in grins upon seeing the three humans and tiny alien that traveled with them. Each of them held long, sharp, curved bladed weapons that held edges in places Travis couldn't imagine anyone needed them to be. They didn't appear to be anywhere near as affected by the heat as the humans.

The Klingons were standing next to the shuttlepod and had been facing towards it with what looked like a communicator in hand, but when one of them had raised the alarm, they all turned towards the four newcomers, their blades held in threatening stances.

Immediately Shepherd's antique weapon came into his hands, almost as if it had a life of its own, and the barrel was pointing at the largest, fur vested Klingon in the group.

"Hi fellas. Nice day isn't it?" Shepherd quipped. "Listen, If you wouldn't mind getting out of our way, we're in kind of a hurry and really need to get into that shuttle there."

"You humans and that little rat have no business here, petaQ!" The Klingon responded, spitting.

"Hey guys, if this place was yours, you're welcome to it. We were just leaving anyways." Trip added.

"You're not going anywhere, petaQ." The big one returned, and brought out something like a black phase pistol but with a longer barrel and a wicked looking raptor shaped head from a holster.

"Anyone want to tell me what 'petaQ' means?" Shepherd asked, lowering his gun in a mock frustrated manner.

For a second, the Klingons looked confused and then they grinned at each other at the human's idiocy. Everyone knew what "petaQ" meant, of course.

Then Travis responded, "You don't want to know."

"That's what I thought." Shepherd said, and his rifle snapped back up and brief jets of flame came out the barrel. The big Klingon went down on one knee as bursts of twenty eight millimeter rounds ripped into his otherwise unprotected chest. The spray then went to his companions and bright pink blood began to cover them. But none of them dropped to the ground dead as he had expected.

"Oh, hell." Shepherd exclaimed.

Then the big one stood up again and charged Shepherd, covering the distance in just a few strides, his speed and strength inhuman and not giving Shepherd or Trip any time to react. The Klingon's companions, covered in their own blood, roared with rage and joined him, sharp flashing blades raised to come down on the heads of the humans.

Time suddenly slowed down for Travis as long dormant instinct kicked in. Suddenly he was just "aware" of not only where everyone was, but where they would be in the next instant. Standing just behind Trip, he could sense the aggression and surprise of the Klingons. He felt their anger at the humans, their sense of violation of… something sacred. The humans weren't supposed to be here.

Before he could say something, Shepherd had squeezed his trigger. A red laser dot had emitted from the archaic weapon. And any chance of their talking their way out of this had disappeared as Travis felt each pellet leave the barrel of the weapon and speed towards the Klingon's chest. None of them had been aware before then of the many redundant organs lying within it.

As the Klingon charged Shepherd, Travis let himself go to the Force, and his hand flew up and reached out to a wicked looking blade that hung at the Klingon's side. The two handed sword (or was it a dagger?) flew into his hands and Travis jumped in between the Klingon and Shepherd, bringing the blade up to meet the curved blade as it came down. His left hand came up and through the Force, the Klingon was thrown two meters backwards onto the stone, his eyes closed into unconsciousness.

His companions wasted no time as they immediately changed targets and went for Travis's somewhat muscular, athletic frame which had now assumed a combat stance, two hands on the hilt of the weapon.

The first one tried to make contact, but Travis saw the swing before it happened and ducked out of the way, then somersaulted over the Klingon's head bring his own blade to bear on the Klingon's fighting arm, which then fell to the ground leaving a cleanly cut wound bleeding profusely.

The next one attempted to use the black phase pistol, but Travis tugged it out of his hands through the Force and it flew out of his hands and away off into the settlement. Immediately a blade similar to the one Travis was wielding appeared in the Klingon's hands and it swung towards the helmsman.

Travis sensed another blade attempting to come up from behind him and he leaped high into the air and landed two meters away to see one Klingon taking off the head of another Klingon, missing his right fore arm, that had plunged a dagger into his chest. Both fell to the ground dead.

Near him Travis could hear a Klingon voice screaming into the air, "Grethor Fek'lhr!" His universal translator had no words for it.

The remaining two Klingons faced him, crescent moon curved swords in their hands, but he saw something in their eyes he had never witnessed from a Klingon before, fear. He could feel it as well, coming off of them in waives, the Force telling him they believed they were looking at something straight out of their own version of hell.

"Take your wounded and go!" Travis shouted at them, putting the Force behind his words.

The two Klingons grabbed their unconscious and wounded comrade, holding him up under each arm, and then hauled him towards the shelter of a building in the ruins. As soon as they were out of site, Travis ran across the pink blood soaked stone to the shuttlepod and hit the code on the hatch to open the door.

"Let's go!" He shouted to his companions as he ducked inside to the pilot's seat, flipping switches, and hitting buttons until the familiar sound of the engines firing filled his ears. He turned around in his seat, expecting to see his companions behind him, but the pod was still empty.

Travis got up, and ducked his head out of the pod's entry to see Trip and Shepherd still standing there, while Yoda was slowly making his way towards the pod, his cane tapping against the rock. The chief engineer and Atlantis soldier had looks of profound shock on their faces.

They didn't have time for that, and Travis knew it.

"Commander, Colonel, we've got to go!" He shouted again at them, and they seemed to wake as they started moving towards the shuttlepod, though as in a daze.

The first to reach the pod and climb in was Yoda, who did so calmly as though nothing unusual had happened. He reached his seat, and buckled himself in quietly, a serious expression on his wizened, light green face.

Finally Trip and Shepherd entered the pod and strapped themselves in, both of them staring at Travis in bewilderment, their mouths still partly open, as he hit a button and closed the shuttlepod's entry door, and launched the pod into the air.

After they were in the air, Trip finally spoke, "Travis, what the hell was that? One second I thought Ronan here was gonna get his skull split in two, a split second later, there're Klingons in pieces all over the ground, and you're shouting at us to keep up!"

Shepherd added, "Yeah, what are you, some kind of Jedi Knight from those old movies or something?"

Travis didn't turn his seat or respond as he continued to focus on the edge of space coming increasingly nearer to them. In truth, he was thankful for the task of flying the shuttlepod. It gave him an excuse to pretend he hadn't heard it, even though the question continued to echo in his mind ever louder and louder.

In his seat, Yoda gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, an expression of satisfaction in his eyes, though none of the others had noticed.

The shuttlepod broke through the blue edge of the atmosphere and into the star filled blackness of planetary orbit. Travis skillfully directed the pod to where he knew Enterprise should be, directly over the landing site in high, geostationary orbit.

What he saw through the forward view bubble instead was a series of fireballs in space.