Hi, my dear readers!

At last you hadn't to wait two full weeks until you can enjoy the next update, but my dear beta-reader – whom I have to thank for all the work – had a lot to do with my writing (*laugh*).

And, as promised, in the new chapter there will be action but also something that comes close to romance regarding the two going-to-be-lovebirds.

Have fun,

Yours Starflight

Chapter 10 – To make things right

"You did it again!" Galven grinned at 'Drythen', and clapped him on the shoulder; the hit would've made a lesser man sway, but Khan was not a lesser man. Still he closed his eyes and counted to five to stay in control. He would never get used to the Tellarit's ebullient behavior, this was certain, but now he had to 'howl with the wolves' – or with the 'pigs', he supposed; he thought of the so-called Klingon 'funeral-ritual' Galven performed.

Taking a deep breath, he returned his attention to the screen that displayed more than twelve Starfleet cruisers and starships attacking the Klingon fleet, forcing them to withdraw. Khan's gaze found the Lexington. The Nebula-class starship resembled the Enterprise though a bit more squat in appearance. For just a moment, there unease fluttered in his gut as he imagined it James' ship fighting out there. Then his rational mind berated him for such nonsense. Kirk and the Enterprise were docked at Starbase 84 by now, safe and secure and far away from the throes of battle. He needed to calm himself.

He was tempted to thank the Fates he never believed in – that James wasn't the one kicking Klingon ass out there. The battle was fierce, and both sides sustained massive casualties.

But if Khan ignored his instincts, Commodore Wesley wouldn't have found anything to defend when he and the others arrived at Tammeron. The battle was necessary.

As the Augment had anticipated, the Klingon strike group were ready to attack before the cavalry arrived on the scene, and he did exactly as he told Galven he would. He made sure the Klingons got a nasty surprise which bought time for Starfleet to arrive.

The plot the super-human hatched was risky, approaching the brink of a suicidal tendency, still the plan was successful.

Ritek, who spoke Klingon language well enough, had beamed to the D'Ghor to aid in the translation of the Klingon symbols while the three ships, Shadow, Flash, and D'Ghor, sped towards Tammeron. The three ships waited at the edge of the planet system among a small asteroid belt, reduced power and locked down all communications to reduce their chances of discovery. The Tammeronians few armed spacecraft orbited the planet - ready to protect their homeworld, even if those few vessels stood no chance against the Klingon squadron. Khan and the members of The Shadow hoped Starfleet would arrive in time.

While cloaked, D'Ghor's passive sensors picked up eleven cruisers dropping out of warp heralding the Klingon's arrival. Wesley and his fleet weren't expected to arrive for another thirty minutes. But even without the aid of Starfleet, Khan would soon illustrate the Klingon's dire mistake in underestimating him.

He let the Klingon squadron pass their commandeered scout ship decloaked. Ritek demonstrated his Klingon skill; he pretended to be Sergeant LargH, one of D'Ghor's original crewmembers. He told the Klingon flagship that they battled civilian pirates. The Klingons bought the tale because of the damage D'Ghor's hull and they neared the Klingon flagship purporting problems with the communication system.

Their deception worked; the enemy-vessels didn't raise the deflector-shields until it was too late. The scout ship D'Ghor approached the Klingon squadron as one of their own, so no-one aboard the flagship saw a reason to waste energy by raising the deflector-shields.

Activating the phaser banks at the last second, Khan had fired at the flagship, steering the scout along the throat of the mighty Klingon battlecruiser. Disguising the D'Ghor again the Augment had brought the scout beneath the flag-ship and sent another blast of deadly energy against the vessel, before he took flight; using the again engaging the cloaking device to disappear from sight.

The chaos that ensued following D'Ghor's attack was enormous. The Klingons expected a short battle with the few Tammeron vessels the planet had for its defense. But they also had to spare energy for the upcoming fight, because the cloaking-devices required so much power to hide the ships during the flight. Four Birds-of-Prey had left the formation to hunt for the D'Ghor while the other ships formed up around the flagship taking defensive positions. Khan used the formation to fire on two of them. He did a quick hit-and-run before making his escape. To his surprise, the vessels that left the formation to give chase seemed to know D'Ghor's position. But two Tammeron ships broke from their defensive positions around the planet to confront the Klingons, distracting them just long enough for the D'Ghor to get away and resume their hit-and-run tactics.

The Shadow and the Flash finally joined the fray, creating further distraction for the D'Ghor allowing them to place well-aimed phaser-fire at the Klingon ships using Khan's advanced military mind. He tickled the tail of the dragon, but the pay-off would be well worth the strife for Tammeron and Starfleet.

Even with the additional firepower provided by the Shadow and Flash, and Khan's superior knowledge of tactics, the battle remained unbalanced in favor of the Klingons, who retained superior firepower. Suddenly the Lexington fell out of warp accompanied by several other heavy battle-cruisers and smaller vessels. Cheers erupted from the Tammeronian ships and even Caviw sighed in relief, "I never thought I would be glad to see Starfleet approaching!"

Khan had to agree. They wouldn't have lasted much longer; even now their survival would be a near-miracle.

The battle shifted from Tammeron's orbit to deep space. The crews of The Shadow's three ships watched Khan in awe. He saw the battle as if he were gazing on it from above – discerning moves as a chess master might. But even he wasn't immune to the violence around him, both from the Klingons and Starfleet – every strategically placed phaser or torpedo meant death. Every hull breach meant bodies sucked into the vacuum of space. Though well acquainted with the cruelty of war, he didn't embrace violence; he merely regarded it as necessary. He was glad that James stayed out of this bloody encounter – even though he knew, as a captain, James would want to be there.

Caviw and Ritek listened to the transmissions of both sides. The three ships of the Shadow removed themselves from the fray – content to let Starfleet take over, and the Tammeronians resumed their defensive positions in the planet's orbit.

And then it happened. To provide cover for a smaller starship, the Lexington was forced to leave the formation, but three Klingon heavy cruisers instantly surrounded them, trapping the Lexington in their crossfire. The other starships were too involved in the battle to run interference properly.

Caviw listened closely to the transmissions between the Starfleet-ships and frowned, "It seems the Lexington has real problems."

Khan viewed the flagship through the screen and pursed his lips. The Lexington's hull sustained heavy damage and her erratic movements belied damage to her navigation. The Augment knew that the Lexington was as good as lost. The Klingons continued laying down sustained fire at the starship. It didn't take a genius to realize the Klingons would not let up until the ship was completely obliterated.

'Bob is simply concerned about my well-being that's all…' Jim's words echoed in his mind, followed by the commodore's voice, '…stay out of trouble, son…' There was fondness in the tone of the elder officer; the kind of affection shared between mentor and protégée.

The super-human watched the sensors again – active sensors now turned on since they removed themselves from battle. They testified to the precarious state of the Lexington. A smaller Starfleet vessel had finally come to the larger space craft's aid, but it could only engage one ship, leaving the other two to continue their brutal assault on the Lexington. They needed a miracle, or they would be destroyed…along with the man who had taken James under his wing.

''…you really pissed me off by killing my mentor – the man who was like a father to me…'' Kirk's accusation when Khan had broken into the younger man's apartment and confronted him, whispered in his memories. He remembered that James had accepted his surrender on Qo'noS 'on the behalf of Christopher Pike' before he gave into his fit of rage and fiercely attacked – fists driven into his face in sorrow.

Khan didn't need any more hints to understand that one of the admirals, who had fallen prey to his revenge at 'Daystrom', had been close to James. Very close. The Augment knew that Kirk's father had sacrificed himself to make it possible for his pregnant wife and the other crew-members of the starship, he served on, to escape. James had been raised without his father but found someone, who filled this empty place, Christopher Pike – a man, who died because of Khan.

Noonien Singh never had parents – not in the commons sense – but he knew the unbearable pain to lose a family member. He was responsible for the loss that the young captain now had to bear.

Now it looked as though James Kirk would lose another mentor; someone he could rely on; someone who took up the mantle to guide and protect the stubborn, spirited, and warm-hearted young officer.

No! Not, if he could prevent it.

He didn't regret his actions that day at Starfleet headquarters, but he was sorry for the grief he caused James. James, who had lied to his friends and the admiralty to grant him, Khan, a head start - and who gave him something no one else had in this century: trust.

The long, elegant fingers of the Augment darted over the instruments of his station. The energy-level of the D'Ghor was down to sixty-two percent; they had still four torpedoes left and enough power in the phaser-bank for a dozen shots. It was not much, but it had to be enough.

"Caviw, hail the Tammeron ships and our vessels!" he ordered, unconcerned by the fact that he was not in command. But Galven waited – interested in what the Terran had in mind.

The Caitian looked over at Galven who nodded at her; she obeyed and purred, "You are on air, Léo!"

"Tammeron fleet, Shadow, Flash, this is Drythen. It seems the leader of the cavalry needs a little help. Fall in behind the D'Ghor in wedge formation. Give a wide enough berth that each ship can fire their photons without hitting one of our own. We are breaking through the Klingon lines to give the Lexington cover to return to the safety of Starfleet's formation. D'Ghor out!" He nodded at Caviw, who cut the line.

"What… what are you doing?" Galven squealed in shock. That was not what he had in mind!

Ritek stared at 'Dythen' as if the Terran had gone insane. "We have no chance to…"

"The success of an attack lays in the element of surprise," the Augment answered casually recalling one of his earliest lessons in military tactics. He pushed the regulator forward and set a bearing straight towards the Lexington. He did not bother checking the sensors to see if the other ships would, indeed, follow him. He knew that the two vessels of the resistance would not let him, or better yet, Galven, down, and he speculated that the Tammeron commanders were bound by honor to come to Starfleet's aid.

A new rush of adrenalin circulated through his body, sharpening his already enhanced senses; the warrior awoke in him once more. His actions had nothing to do with a guilty conscience; rather it was rooted in compassion and the wish to make things right. He couldn't undo what he had done at 'Daystrom', but he could spare James Kirk, maybe the only living soul in the whole universe who cared about him, the grief of another personal loss.

ST***ST***ST

The situation aboard the Lexington was devastating. The main-power failed several minutes ago, the auxiliary power was iffy at best, and only one engine-booster remained viable. They had no torpedoes and because of the power failure, the phaser-banks were useless. Fires raged on each of the ship's decks as well as the bridge.

Wesley's left hand clung to the armrest of the captain's chair; the automatic safety-belts didn't work. He bled from an injury at his right temple, and he knew his right arm was broken as he had been hurled across the bridge against the helm-console and heard the terrific crack. The air was full of smoke and heat. Three red shirts tried to put out the fire. The ship diverted power from the climate system in favor of the life support systems which were only as good as the Lexington itself – not very.

Bob Wesley had been involved in several battles since the war started, and faced even more dangerous situations during his career, but this time he wouldn't make it – neither he nor is crew. He knew that they were fighting a hopeless fight. Even the addition of Revere – a Hermes class scout – it was too late to turn the tables. In minutes, the Lexington would surrender to the onslaught and be destroyed.

Service in Starfleet went hand-in-hand with risk – especially when the duty station was outer space during wartime. So Wesley, naturally, had faced death on more than one occasion. But no one gets used to it - not really. Bob felt dread and sorrow rising in him as his navigator told him that the shields would fail within seconds, leaving the Lexington completely vulnerable. He would have accepted his fate – dying alone, but knowing his entire crew would be killed along with him pained him deeply – and that he wouldn't see his daughter Katie again. He left for deployment aboard the Lexington two months ago, before the Klingons declared war, and he had promised to spend the next shore leave with her. Now she would be left behind.

The main screen flickered then stabilized clearly showing a Bird-of-Prey in front of them. Its torpedo shafts started to glow, ready to spit the last of its deadly fire at them. Taking a deep breath and trying to hide the fear that chilled his blood, Bob steeled himself against what was to come and said, "I am sorry that it has to end like this. I am very proud of every one of you, and I want to thank you all for your trust and your service that has gone above and beyond the call of duty. We…"

"Commodore!" The outburst of his helmsman interrupted Wesley. He looked at the scene pointed out to him, and his eyes became wide as saucers. "What the hell…" he whispered. Out of nowhere a Klingon scout materialized in front of the Bird-of-Prey – but not in a position to fire at the Lexington; instead it faced the larger enemy vessel and shot two torpedoes directly into its weapon shaft. Following the shots, it rose and banked left to shoot a line of quick-fire phaser blasts at the battlecruiser's aft section. This maneuver was not in any Starfleet manual 'Standard Operating Procedure'.

The result was incredible. The two torpedoes shot from the Klingon scout had intercepted the Bird-of-Prey missiles before they were even deployed! The phaser shots hit the hull section where the weakened deflectors and the cloaking device were installed. Instantly, the shields folded. The enemy ship returned the fire but missed the small scout by a hand's breadth. D'Ghor then rolled right to slip beneath the Bird-of-Prey and fire another round along the unprotected hull, slicing it open. One single, small space craft defeated the Klingon ship!

Wesley and his officers watched the gambit unfold with mouths agape. "That helmsman is nuts - unbelievable!" Lexington's communication officer Palmers blurted out - awed. He was the voice of the crew at that moment.

"Yeah, damn good shooting!" one of the Red Shirts agreed. "That was simply… brilliant!"

The commodore nodded; he suddenly realized the danger they were in and jumped into action. "Lieutenant Ericson, get us away from them; maximum speed! If the Klingon explodes, we'll…"

"Sir, the engines aren't responding!" his navigator shouted. "We have no power left for them!"

As if on cue, the communication officer caught a transmission from the Klingon scout meant for the allies and put it on speaker. "D'Ghor to the Tammeron ships! Activate tractor beams and pull the Lexington out of the blast zone! My sensors show that her engines have shut down!"

Wesley took a deep breath; the baritone barking orders over the comm was unfamiliar. "Not only a son-of-gun, but as a logical man with command. That guy is a natural talent," he murmured to himself, deep respect burgeoning for the other man.

"Sir, four Tammeron ships have taken us into their tractor beam," his science officer called.

Bob nodded in relief while he watched the scene on the flickering screen. The Klingon ship grew smaller as the four Tammeron vessels dragged the Lexington out of danger. Then, as Khan and Wesley anticipated, the enemy ship exploded into a fierce blaze of fire and flying parts 'til nothing remained other than the detritus left behind to drift through space.

Now that the Lexington was out of immediate danger, Wesley could see another Bird-of-Prey clashing with two smaller Federation ships and cadre of Tammerons. Another Klingon cruiser battled with the Revere.

A blinding light at the right edge of the screen saw another spacecraft destroyed. Wesley shot his science officer an asking look; the Deltan replied, "It was the Klingon flagship sir. It was already badly damaged when we reached Tammeron; those final blasts ended her."

"Commodore, the Klingon scout D'Ghor – the one that came to our aid – is in trouble!" The helmsman turned around in his chair. "A D4-cruiser is attacking it!"

Bob frowned; he saw a smaller but quicker Klingon ship firing at the scout. Even after the D'Ghor cloaked, the enemy seemed to know its location and attacked mercilessly. Then the cloaking-device failed, and the scout became visible once more.

"Transmit to the Revere and the Columbia! They have to protect our rescuers and…" He didn't need to complete the order. The Revere was already on her way to shield the allied scout ship and shot full-on at the enemy cruiser, distracting the Klingons from their victim.

It was the last action of the battle. Robbed of their fleet commander and having lost seven ships, the Klingons withdrew to make an escape. Four Starfleet vessels gave chase to make certain the enemy didn't return while the rest remained render aid where necessary.

Bob leaned back in his chair; ignoring the throbbing pain in his arm. "Hail the D'Ghor, Lieutenant!" he told Palmers. "I want to thank our rescuers."

The man nodded; a moment later a disheveled Tellarit emerged on the screen. Wesley couldn't hide the grateful smile that spread over his sweaty and dirty face. "I am Commodore Robert Wesley from the starship Lexington," he introduced himself. "I want to give you my deepest thanks for your help, sir! Without your intervention, my crew and I would be dead."

The Tellarit's snout had twitched before he oinked with a certain degree of pride, "I am Galven from the organization The Shadow. I must return the gratitude; you kept the damn Klingons from turning us into molecules."

Bob cocked his head. "The Shadow? So it was you who gave us the warning about the Klingons' planned assault on Tammeron." It was not a question, but a statement.

The Tellarit shrugged. "One of our members coaxed it out of the former commander of this nice little vessel. We try to give the damn Orions a hard time, seeing that you boys are too busy battling with the Klingons, but when we learned to what those warmongers were up to, we thought we should change our mission for the sake of the nice Tammeron people."

This time Wesley had to smile. "I understand Commander Galven – not only are the Tammeronians, but we too are in your debt." He pursed his lips. "That maneuver you flew was – it was extraordinary!"

"I don't want to adorn myself with borrowed plumes, Commodore. My helmsman was the hero of the hour. He raced to your aid without even asking me," he added with a grunt, yet his grinning face showed that he wasn't angry with the man.

Bob chuckled. It seems The Shadow has several 'commanders' – how typical for civilians playing soldiers. "May I speak with him?"

The Tellarit's expression changed. It showed a hint of dismay, while Galven looked sideward to the floor. "I am sorry, Commodore, but that is a bit difficult just now."

On the D'Ghor, Galven's glance rested on the unconscious form of 'Drythen', who lay on the deck as Caviw treated him. Galven only remembered Drythen hurling himself out of his chair following a photon blast. While jerking both arms up in an attempt to protect himself, one of the overhead support struts crashed down, missing the helm by inches and sending parts throughout bridge. A large bit of debris stuck the Terran in the temple, knocking him out. If Drythen hadn't already launched himself from his station and seen it coming, the falling strut would have injured him badly – maybe even killed him.

Now the slender figure lay motionless on the ground bleeding from his head wound. Caviw knelt down beside him and cradled his head in her lap, trying to stop the bleeding with a sleeve torn from her overall. Much to her relief, Drythen breathed calm and steady, though his pulse was slightly elevated.

"He was injured during the last Klingon assault," Galven grumbled and saw the concerned face of the elder Commodore on screen.

"Is there anything we can do for him? Can we beam him aboard on one of our ships to be tended properly in one of our med bays?"

The Tellarit hesitated before he answered, "That's nice, Commodore, but…you see…um… He isn't on the best terms with Starfleet or the authorities. I don't think…"

"Whatever he's done, I think his actions speak for themselves. I guarantee his freedom during his stay. He can return to you whenever he wants," Bob cut in.

Reluctantly, Galven looked down at the wounded man, whose lashes began to flutter. Astonished, the crew of the D'Ghor watched as Drythen opened his glassy blue-green eyes, glanced straight at the Tellarit and croaked a hoarsely, "No!"

Caviw's tail twitched. "Léo, be reasonable. We don't have many medical supplies to…"

"It is a bruise, nothing more. I will be fine!" The tone along stated clearly enough that he was anything but 'fine', yet his ashen face showed no pain, only desperate determination.

The last thing Khan remembered was the Crack of the metal above; he tried to get himself to safety, only to be hit by hard by a falling girder. For a long moment, only blackness surrounded him; he thought he could hear voices beyond the black. Concentrating on them and the gentle strokes of clawed fingers, he had regained consciousness, listening to the conversation between Galven and Commodore Wesley. He was reassured the commodore was still alive, but when the officer offered to beam him aboard a Starfleet vessel to give him medical support, his survival instincts flared.

Though convinced Wesley was an honest man and would guarantee his freedom, Khan knew that the commodore wouldn't have any other choice but to turn him in as soon as he learned who he was. And this was a risk the Augment would not take.

Gathering all his strengths and ignoring the stabbing pain in his head, he opened his mouth and forced the words out which would decide his fate and that of his family.

Galven grunted in surprise. "Are you sure, buddy? You don't look so good."

Khan moistened his lips and whispered, "I will heal shortly, Galven, believe me. Do not… I do not want…" He made a tired gesture towards the screen and the Tellarit sighed before he addressed Wesley again. "Sorry, Commodore, but he wants to stay here."

Bob grimaced slightly. Well dammit! What had this guy done that he wouldn't accept an offer to be tended to in a Starfleet med bay? "Very well," he agreed after a short pause. "Then please accept my bid to beam some medical supplies to you and your ships. They are part of your - organization, aren't they?"

The Tellarit nodded proudly. "Yes, they are. And this nice ship was booty we got only a short time ago – thanks to this foolhardy daredevil!" He nodded fondly toward the injured man on the floor before adding softly, "It was he who got the information out of the former commander of this vessel regarding the Klingon's planned assault and contacted you uniform-wearers."

This revelation took Wesley by surprise – but then, on the other hand, it didn't. It seems this man, whoever he was, had a good heart. Otherwise, the Lexington's crew and the 17 million inhabitants of Tammeron would be dead by now. "I will make certain that he's mentioned in my report in the most positive light," he promised. "Is there something else that I can do to support you and your organization?"

"It would be nice if you could tell your comrades that we are not Klingons and that they should keep their torpedoes to themselves when they see us," the Tellarit grinned.

At this Wesley had to smile. "No problem, Commander Galven. Anything else?"

Galven shook his head. "No, thank you, sir."

Bob bent forward at his terminal. "All right. Thank you once again for your intervention – detaining the Klingons until we came and then for your aid in battle." Warmth shimmered in his brown eyes. "And please pass my sincerest thanks to your helmsman. That was like nothing I'd ever seen before. His quick reactions made my dizzy just watching them. Can I at least learn the name of the man who saved our lives? If he ever runs into Starfleet authorities, my report could go a long way in helping him."

He saw the Tellarit look to the floor again and heard a hoarse and deep voice answering, a voice so quiet Wesley could make out the words. Then Galven rolled his eyes and squealed, "He doesn't want you to know his name, but he gives his thanks for the offer." He rubbed his snout. "Well, Commodore, go and patch up your nice ship and get some rest. You look like hell – just like your bridge. See ya!" With that, he cut the comm link. The screen returned to its usual state - space.

For a long moment Wesley stared at the small Klingon scout. Then he ordered his science officer to transmit images of the vessel with close-ups of the damage for identification purposes along with its name and hull designation to all Federation and Starfleet starships in the sector, informing them that this was not an enemy, but a valuable ally. Now to take care of his crew, the Lexington and the other ships…

ST***ST***ST

"You are the most stubborn being in the whole universe! You could have it far more comfortable now if you had taken Wesley's offer. But no, you had to refuse!"

Caviw watched 'Léo' as he slept in his bunk. Ritek and she had brought him to one of the small quarters in the aft of the D'Ghor. Ignoring his slurred protests, the Caitian cared for him with the medical supplies received from Wesley: several medical kits containing wound dressings and splints, a variety of hypo sprays, disinfection agents as well as a bio-scanner, medical tricorder, and a dermal regenerator. Caviw used the dermal regenerator to treat the man's head injury before he fell asleep.

Caviw was glad that the CMO of the starship that delivered them; as far as she heard of the Shadow and Flash received the same equipment. Commodore Wesley seemed to be one of the old school – honorable and trustworthy. She didn't understand why 'Léo' had not accepted Wesley's offer. The commodore would have set him free after he had been treated at a med bay; Caviw was sure of it.

Her gaze wandered over the dark-haired Terran, whose handsomeness and fierce spirit attracted her like no other male had before. There had been Caitian men who had peeked her interest, and she enjoyed affairs with men of other races – especially humans – but 'Léo' beckoned her like the Veganian bees to light.

She listened to his breath, and her glance rested on his face. He slept deeply, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was a kind of healing-sleep – like Vulcans did following a grave injury. The bio-scan displayed his depressed bio functions.

'Who are you?' she thought and pursed her lips. 'You fight with the speed of a Vulcan, the strength of a Klingon, and the reflexes of a Caitian. And a prescience in battle no Terran possesses. You are merciless toward the enemy, but you are ready to throw yourself into harm's way to save others. You are not the usual sort of man.'

She sighed and reached for him. Since she met him, she longed to touch his hair. It seemed so very soft and far too perfect for an outlaw on the run. She knew that he wouldn't have allowed it if he had been awake, so she took her chance now. It was only a gesture of fondness she told herself; maybe it soothed him now in his slumber. It was more than soft, almost feathery – dirty as it was after all the smoke and grime that had rained down on them during the battle. She stroked it gently, down to his neck and…

Her movements stilled; her fingers touched the warm, smooth velvet skin at the back of his neck. There was something – something no eye would recognize. But she could sense it. It was a mark; the mark of a mate.

Among her people, claiming a mate in this fashion was normal, and not unheard of in other races either. Even the Vulcans 'claimed' their partners by binding their soul together with their mate, but she never thought the Terrans partook in a similar binding-ritual.

With care she let her fingertips run over the sensitive spot, cautious not to scratch him with her claw-like nails. The mark – invisible, soft and intangible to those who weren't sensitive to such a thing.

'Léo' was taken, claimed by another she realized unhappily. Still it roused her curiosity. Who was his mate and where was she? Why wasn't she with h…? Caviw frowned as her cat-like instincts sensed something even the telepathy of a Vulcan would not have caught. A female had not given the mark on 'Léo's' neck but by a male. She was certain of it. His partner in body and soul was another man.

Well, it was not uncommon that partners of the same gender would bind themselves to one another. Among her people, there were partnerships like this, and they were highly regarded because the couples were not only mates but also brothers or sisters in blood and soul. Caviw asked herself how 'Léo' and his partner found one another and how strong was their bond. Who was this man, able to win such a beautiful and incredible feral creature such as 'Léo'?

For a moment, she remembered 'Léo's' determination in contacting Starfleet's flagship Enterprise to give warning about the planned Klingon attack – how he sent the hidden message to the starship's captain. The commanding officer didn't doubt 'Léo's' words for a second after he got the message from 'Sunrise'. Caviw's heightened senses heard the smile behind the warmth in his voice as he addressed 'Sunrise' to thank him for the warnings. Later she learned from Galven that 'Léo' had contacted the captain again, this time in private, and talked for several minutes.

Was this captain 'Léo's' mate? Was this relationship the reason 'Léo' had been forced to desert Starfleet? Yes, he spoke about his family – told them that he had to leave the fleet for them. She was ready to believe that the truth was a mixture of both. Perhaps – no most certainly there were many other secrets he kept from them.

'What else are you hiding?' she thought as she took the bio-scanner and examined his head injury again. The result made her gasp. The wound was already healing. If it continued at this speed, he would be completely well in a day.

Just in case she missed something, Caviw scanned the gash one more time, but the display showed the same result as before. The injury was closing, sped up by a healing ability in his cells she had never seen.

Putting the scanner aside, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. This man was no normal Terran. He was somehow enhanced – and avoided Starfleet so that he turned down an offer to be tended. Very curious. Still he felt loyalty so some of the fleet's members. 'Who are you?' she had thought for the second time before she nodded to herself. It was about time to find something out about him!

She looked up as Galven stepped into the small quarters, still disheveled and dirty. "How is he doing?" he asked quietly. The Caitian sighed, "He sleeps, and the scans show – well, he is healing," she avoided a direct answer. 'Léo' had his reasons for the secrets he kept and she accepted this so long as he wasn't a danger to them. But she wanted to find out the whole truth before she considered informing the others out of the things she found.

Galven sighed in relief. "That's good to hear. The boy took a very hard blow to his bullhead – maybe he will think next time he decides to hurl himself into danger." His little eyes betrayed a bit of fondness as he looked at the Terran male. "I think shore leave will do him good. It will do us all good after this mess we went through!"

Caviw cocked her head. "Where are we heading to?"

"Aldebaran," Galven answered. "I have a friend there who runs a dockyard and doesn't ask questions. And the weather on this planet is nice. There are bars and restaurants, and… Well, we have earned ourselves a little vacation, don't you think so?"

The Caitian smiled at him. "Yes, we have!"

She rose and left with Galven, looking one last time at the sleeping man, before she let the doors slipping close.

ST***ST***ST

Jim received Bob's message regarding the successful defense of Tammeron several hours later. It was unusual that a commodore gave a report to a subordinate officer previous to the official events release, but Jim was his friend, and he didn't want to hold him in suspense any longer than necessary. He knew that the young captain worried about him and his crew – made worse by his forced distance from the fight due to the Enterprise's condition.

Starfleet's flagship had been at Starbase 84 for ten hours now and was already undergoing the massive repairs necessary to get her back underway. It would be another two weeks minimum at space dock. There was scarcely a station, a panel, a shaft or a console that wasn't open and swarmed with technicians. Workers removed overhead and bulkhead claddings; cables hung free, and there wasn't a level or deck where no work had to be done. Noises boomed from Engineering and could be heard up to the quarterdeck. The air buzzed with voices and the sounds of tools and machinery.

Wesley's dispatch was a pleasant distraction for Jim, and he had to grin as he listened to the audio transmission of the abbreviated report of the events.

Then Kirk's mood soon fell though, when he learned that The Shadow ran interference, keeping the enemy at bay until the Lexington and the rest of the fleet dedicated to the battle reached the theater. He heard about how The Shadow even saved Wesley and his crew, employing 'some incredible tactics', as well as The Shadow's damage, sustained at the hands of the Klingons in the process.

"I'd bet my paycheck that this plan goes back to this crazy plot traces right to that daredevil – Drythen – or whatever his real name is. Without him, the Tammeronians would have been helpless. They're not equipped for battle. The Klingon flagship was nearly beaten by the time we arrived and even then they backed us up when they could have run. If I ever get the chance to shake this man's hand, I will do it, mark my words! I do not care for what this guy has to answer for. He's responsible for saving the entire planet as well as hundreds of Starfleet lives – my life," Wesley concluded – his final words spoken almost reverently.

Jim knew exactly who was responsible for said 'incredible tactics'. The whole operation bore Khan's stamp – starting from the warnings sent (care of some questionable interrogation methods) right through to the suicide mission to save the Lexington. The man was a predator – once the scent of blood in battle found him, nothing could stop him. But why did he risk his life to save Wesley and the others? According to Bob's recounting, the Klingon scout that the militia seized had taken heavy fire; only the aid of another Starfleet ship prevented its destruction and the death of its crew.

Standing at Uhura's station – which was one of the few areas that didn't need any repair – Jim waited with a sinking feeling in his stomach until Bob was finished before he asked, "What about the members of The Shadow. Did they suffer losses?"

The seconds until Wesley's answer came seemed to stretch endlessly as the wave of fear coiled in his belly.

"I don't know. I only learned from their commander – an older Tellarit named Galven – that his helmsman was injured. I offered to beam him onto one of our ships for medical treatment, but he refused."

Jim felt his mouth go dry. The helmsman. There was no doubt who this man was. And of course Khan refused Bob's offer. Accepting it would have led to his arrest and inevitably a return to cryostasis, or fates worse – a return to the hands of Section 31, or even the death penalty. "Did you speak with him, Bob?" Kirk inquired. He needed to know if Wesley recognized his rescuer.

"No, he was barely conscious and only talked to Mr. Galven from down on the deck. I never saw him. Hell, I didn't even know his name until the Tammeron fleet commander told me an hour ago that the man is Drythen. He took the command of The Shadow's little fleet in order to stop the Klingons from reaching Tammeron before we arrived and then managed to render the Klingon flagship nearly defenseless with another maneuver." The commodore laughed. "Dammit, I'd love this guy in our fleet! Some more of him and the Klingons would trip over themselves running away. I checked his name but found no entry in any of our databases. Maybe the name is a pseudonym."

'It is!' Kirk thought as a heavy dread spread through him. Khan was injured – perhaps badly. He had feared this, but the foreknowledge didn't stop the icy chill racing down his spine now. Perhaps his injury avoided visual contact with Wesley, keeping the risk of recognition to a minimum. He pulled that with Jim on the Vengeance to gain an advantage. Which one of the two possibilities was the truth, Jim didn't know – it made him uneasy. Of course the Augments were genetically constructed to overcome wounds normal humans could not. Still Khan Noonien Singh wasn't immortal. The thought that death could take the man he once regarded as his nemesis, but was now his lover, was like a knife slicing him in two.

"I'll tell you more when we arrive at Risa, and I find some time off," Bob continued, ignorant of Jim's distress.

"You travelling to Risa?" Jim asked, forcing himself to be sidetracked for a few moments. He heard the commodore snort.

"As soon as we have our warp drive back, we'll head to the next dockyard. K7 has fallen to the Klingons and Starbase 133 or 84, where you are, is twice as far as Starbase 12 at Risa. Given the status of the Lexington and her engines, we'll be lucky to get there in the next three or four days. Anything faster than Warp 2 is off the table."

They exchanged a few more words of encouragement and good-byes, then Wesley ended the transmission. The short exchange was barely over when Jim excused himself to his quarters; he gave the conn to Sulu, who discussed the status of his console with a technician of Starbase 84.

Walking toward the stateroom, Jim reminded himself of his promise not to contact Khan for personal reasons – after all he couldn't deny the risk that a transmission could be intercepted, even when using an encrypted frequency – but this was urgent. The super-human was injured, and Kirk's agitation would only grow until he knew the other man's condition.

He knew he shouldn't be so emotionally invested in Khan's welfare, but that only made his agitation worse. He couldn't help himself. It was as if his heart and soul abandoned his logic and set out on their own path.

Locking his door, he went to his desk, activated the communication terminal, typed the required frequency and encryption code and tried to hail the Augment. There was no answer. With a sinking feeling Jim tried several more times, waiting some minutes between attempts. Still there was no reply from Khan. Either Khan was out of range, but the shipboard computer didn't tell him that, or the former dictator was unable to answer. Jim didn't want to ponder that sickening possibility.

He didn't give up. It was not in his nature to do so – and his stubbornness paid off as his attempts finally came to fruition.

ST***ST***ST

The annoying pinging sound seemed to come out of nowhere, penetrating the silent darkness that surrounded him. He recognized this noise, but he couldn't put a finger on it. His usually quick mind was in a haze as it grasped for data just out of reach. The ping seemed to be a kind of calling signal, like that of the first mobile phones of his era. But this ringing was different.

As these first hints of neurons firing made themselves known, he was rewarded with an intense headache that tore him out of the comfortable warmth he was enjoying. Slowly he became aware of several things – he lay beneath blankets, his head hurt like someone had taken a hammer to his skull, and he was nauseous and chilled despite the covers. Next, he noticed the hum of technology – some devices, no doubt – and an alien scent in the air that wasn't very pleasant.

And still this recurrent ping.

Forcing his eyes open, Khan blinked into the dim, small, and very foreign looking room around him. He needed a moment to recall the events that led him here – the battle with the Klingons, his decision to come to the aid of the Lexington – to the rescue of Kirk's mentor – the enemy's counterattack, the falling strut…Oh, that explains the pain in his head. He remembered Caviw and Ritek tending his injuries.

With a groan, the super-human closed his eyes again. He had been hit and suffered a concussion which explained the sickness, the dizziness, and the chills which racked his body. He knew that he would heal within hours, still the process procedure was more than disagreeable. How he hated it to be weak like this! He didn't take well to leaving others to command as he was forced to do while wounded. And he didn't like lying about waiting for his body to function properly again. Furthermore, he despised being alone in the middle of a far too strange world!

Again the pining signal sounded. Growling like a caged tiger, he reached for the small device on the nightstand beside his bunk. One look at the incoming frequency and his irritation vanished.

Flipping the communicator open, he moistened his dry lips. "Yes?"

For a moment there was silence, then he heard the soft and familiar tenor tinged with concern, "Sunrise? Is that you?"

If Khan could see himself in a mirror. He knew his expression was doleful – just pathetic. But he couldn't help the genuine smile spread across his ashen face and reached his eyes. "Yes, it is me, James." His voice was hoarse and quiet, betraying his condition. "You may speak openly. I am alone here."

Light years away Jim let out a sigh of relief. For nearly half an hour he tried to reach the Augment. The dread in Jim's gut eased just a bit at Khan's voice. "Thank God, there you are," he said gently. "I heard from Bob Wesley what the 'helmsman' of The Shadow did – and that he was injured. I figured it had to be you." He gulped, realizing how weak the super-human sounded. "How bad is it?"

Aboard the D'Ghor Khan blinked several times; he was surprised, but pleased at Kirk's concern. Clearing his throat, he retorted, "Nothing serious. Nothing that will not heal shortly."

In his quarters, Kirk rolled his eyes. "Khan" he warned, showing that he didn't believe Khan's description of the seriousness of his injuries. "Bob said you were on the floor out cold when he contacted The Shadow. By the tone of your voice, you are barely awake even though you go from zero to warp speed in no time. So, come on, tell me what happened to you." He swallowed. "Please."

The soft plea made the former dictator give in. James' concern felt far too good – so with a sigh he replied truthfully, "I was hit in the head by debris. I have a concussion, nothing more."

"Uh-huh, and you certainly have a gash large enough to give Bones the chills," Jim added, clearly upset.

"As your doctor friend pointed out, my cells regenerate faster than a human's. I will be healed by tomorrow, James."

For a moment, Kirk stayed silent then he answered. "Even with your enhanced healing abilities you still feel pain." Gentle compassion accompanied those words and Khan dipped his head in reticence at his words.

"Pain is a signal that the body is out of homeostasis. If you know what caused the pain, you can accept it. Acceptance makes the pain easier to bear." He took a deep breath and a wave of nausea swept over him. The Klingon smell lingered in his quarters, and their smell was as bad as their manners!

"Still…," Jim sighed. "You threw yourself and your seized ship in the middle of a war that is not yours to fight."

"It wasn't that bad, James."

"According to Bob you saved him and his crew. He was impressed with your tactics. Starfleet's going to talk about it for years." The young captain hesitated a moment, then he asked, "Why did you do it?"

"What do you mean – why did I do it?"

"Risking your life to save the Lexington," Jim specified. There was nothing but the soft hum of the transmission. Then he heard the Augment take another deep breath; he continued – quieter this time.

"I had my reasons."

Jim rolled his eyes. That wasn't the answer he wanted, but he knew Khan well enough by now to let the topic alone – for now. The Augment would tell him when in his own time. And Jim would wait for him. In the end, it didn't matter why the super-human saved Bob and the crew of the Lexington. He did it, and Kirk was more than grateful for it. He didn't want to cope with another loss of so treasured a comrade as Bob Wesley – another man so like a father to him.

"Thank you, Noonien. Thank you so much," was all Jim could manage, his voice fraught with emotion. It seemed such as small offering for such a great act.

On the other side of Borderland, Khan's heart raced when he heard his given name roll off from James' tongue. He could scarcely remember the last time he heard his given name; it filled him with a swirl of sentiment he would have denied feeling, if he had been his more rational self. "You are welcome… Jim," he murmured, remembering the CMO of the Enterprise used this nickname for 'James'.

A wave of heat flushed young captain to the tips of his ears as that deep, battle-rough voice of the Augment gave this term of endearment. He felt a tingle on the back of his neck as he flushed. Good God, what was happening to him? What was happening to them? Why were they all of suddenly ready to protect each other – break their own set of codes and those they swore to uphold for one another?

He cleared his throat and wished he could do the same with his mind; he seemed to have lost it somewhere back in San Francisco when the super-human seduced him. Because right now he wanted nothing more than to hold his former nemesis close – wherever they were.

"You… you got injured fighting a battle that is not yours to fight, saving a planet you know nothing of – and Starfleet who'd want to see you…dead." He gulped at these words. "I… I don't know what to say," he mumbled, rubbing his face with one hand. He was at a loss for words – a rare thing.

Khan moistened his lips again and closed his eyes. "I've endured far worse than a blow to the head, so do not worry so much. I will be well soon."

Back on the Enterprise, Jim searched for something to say. "That's not what I meant and you know it." He sighed. "This is crazy. I contacted you to offer some comfort, and now you are trying to calm me down." He shook his head, still overwhelmed with his newfound knowledge and at a loss for words.

"Comfort?" Khan frowned at that; Kirk could hear it in his voice

"Yeah, comfort. Everyone needs some comfort from time to time – even you!"

"You think so?" the Augment asked, a bit bewildered and amused.

"Yeah, you do!" There was a short pause, before Jim continued, more his old self again, "I bet you hate having to stay in bed giving in to your body's needs. Believe me, I understand that. Bones calls me 'the most unreasonable patient of whole Starfleet'. I get so frustrated when I have to lay still with nothing to do but heal. It makes me feel useless and weak, especially when he tells me over and over again that I'll be fine soon." He mimicked McCoy's voice perfectly which made Khan smirk. Kirk continued, "Luckily my crew keeps me updated I still get my daily reports and read the ships' logs to keep me in the loop. Somehow it helps, even if depending on my reports, and visits for my state of mind is 'completely illogical', as Spock would say. Still, he shows up the most at my bedside. Well, Bones tops those visits, but he is a doctor after all. And I swear he loves to pester me just to remind me he has to treat me at all."

Aboard the Klingon scout, the Augment listened to Jim's torrent of speech. 'Well, his loss for words is over!' he thought with some amusement, but he didn't mind. He liked to hear the younger man's voice. And he learned more about Kirk than ever before. They shared some similarities; James' description of being forced to the sickbed was exactly what Khan was going through now as he waited for his damaged body to repair itself.

And the comfort James – 'Jim' he corrected himself – took from the presence of his friends equaled his experienced back in the 20th century with those who were dearest to him. During the rare occasions when he needed time to heal, Joaquin, Chan, Ann or Paolo came to his bedside to provide comfort – even attempted to cheer him up. He insisted that he didn't need such 'pathetic nonsense', but it had felt good – especially when Joaquin's sunny disposition chased away his dark moods.

He now understood the close friendship between Kirk and his crew – how much James appreciated the powerful bond with the doctor and the damn half-Vulcan. Hearing Jim talk about them like this reminded him of his family – of Joaquin and Kati. They each shared their own little idiosyncrasies – genetically enhance or not – but he had loved all of them all fiercely; he still did. Khan and Jim shared this trait – the ability to love without compromise or boundaries. Khan managed to love his own beyond the human lifespan, and Jim loved his people through death and beyond.

Did Jim call to comfort a friend before he learned of Khan's injury? Was there a vestige of affection from Kirk that made him want to cheer him up? They shared something – he wasn't sure what it was exactly (aside from the blood and their night together). Knowing the young captain was concerned about him gave him solace. But he needed to know why – not now though. His head hurt too much, and his body needed all his energy to heal, so he deferred the needed contemplation until later.

"So, you're convinced I could use a little distraction?" he asked. He heard the smile behind Kirk's reply.

"If you are more comfortable calling it a distraction, I am okay with it. Either way my answer is 'yes'."

Khan lifted his brow. Yes, he had difficulties accepting comfort, but a distraction was fine with him. James – Jim – seemed to know him all too well, but he didn't mind. Not this time. "So, by all my means, do it," he mumbled, imagining Kirk's confused expression.

The captain retorted, "What?"

"Distract me," the Augment grumbled and felt a smile tugging at his mouth, as he listened to Jim's chuckle; the sound was sunlight to him after a dark and cold night. Again his thoughts betrayed him – he must sort out this thing between them!

"And what could distract you?" Kirk's voice teased. "I think you're too old for bedtime stories."

A low chuckle escaped the super-human – the thought was indeed silly. He sighed, "No, you are right. Bedtime stories were never for me." He pulled the covers higher. "You grew up in Iowa, didn't you?" As Jim affirmed with a soft "uh-huh", he required, "Tell me about it."

"You want me to tell you about Iowa?"

"Yes, I have never been there. I only heard that it is a part of a vast and sunny area in United States."

Jim smiled as he heard the description of the country he once called 'home'. "If you'd like to hear about it, I'll talk. But don't complain later that I've bored you. Iowa isn't that thrilling you may think."

"Even the most barren desert holds beauty and secrets of its own, Jim," Khan reminded him. Kirk felt another warm shiver licking beneath his skin as the Augment used his nickname again.

"Well, it is still the breadbasket of the United States; large areas are used for the agrarian economy," Kirk began, but soon skipped the facts, as his memories turned back in time to his childhood. Not everything had been bad then, before his mother married Frank, her second husband, and Sam and he were still boys playing in Iowa's wilderness.

He spoke of the large corn fields, swaying in the wind like waves in the ocean – the warm sun, the small forests, the clean air and the endless tracts of land as far as you could see. Jim told him about little village near their farm and of the old John Deere tractor their neighbors had, how he and his brother Sam cared for the ancient machinery. He told him about the yearly tornadoes that were terrifying as they were breathtaking and beautiful – a display of the nature's might. He spoke of the red sunsets and the clear night skies. How when he looked up at the stars in the direction where his father died – he still was fascinated by them – beautiful and dangerous. He voiced his awe when he first saw the Enterprise being built in the Riverside Shipyard; it changed everything for him.

Far away on the D'Ghor, the super-human smiled ever so gently. He was becoming sleepy; lulled by the soft tones of Jim's voice that enfolded him like a warm blanket, until they were nothing more than a soft whirl of sound.

"Khan, are you still with me?" The almost whispered question tore the Augment away from sleep's threshold and tiredly he opened his eyes once more. The speed with which his enhanced body was healing was taking its toll.

"Yesh, I'm," he slurred – Khan's slow and quiet tone told Jim that the former dictator was drifting into sleep.

Something tugged at Kirk's heart – he wasn't sure what it was. It felt warm, protective and gentle all rolled into one. He imagined reaching out to the super-human lying on a bunk, covered in blankets and with a bandage around his head.

"Go to sleep," he suggested softly, "You need it." The answer was a confirming mixture of a growl and a sigh. Jim smiled. "Good night… Nien!"

A faint "night" was the only reply; then the link was broken – leaving behind a deeply affected Jim Kirk…

TBC…

So, my dear readers, I do hope the chapter was to your liking – beginning with the action, Khan's reason why he came to Wesley's aid, then Caviw finding out more about him than he certainly is going to like and then ending with the comfort-call of Jim. The relationship between the two men is growing ever so softy, despite the distance of space, and their feelings begin to bloom.

And soon the two will be re-united again, this much I can promise.

For those, who are wondering, why Khan referred to 'tickling a dragon's tail' in his thoughts during the battle, here a little description of the phrase:

*Tickling the dragon's tail was based on Physics Richard Feynman's (c. 1945) remarks concerning experiments testing uranium and plutonium, bringing masses offissilematerials to near-critical levels to establish theircritical massvalues which ran the risk of causing a nuclear chain reaction. This and the fact that he comes from the Asia area where the dragon holds a very special status made me chose this phrase – just for your information.

In the next chapter you will learn more about the plan Admiral Norton and Luengo are initiating to take hold of Starfleet Command. Khan thinks about his relationship to Jim and – by the way – develops some technics which are going to be very helpful soon. Then he learns that Caviw knows more of him than thought and Jim and his crew are getting a new order that will put them in great danger – a danger that is going to bring Khan in the arena, so to say.

I hope you liked the new chapter and I am really, really curious what you think of the characters' progresses, so please – please! – leave some reviews.

Maybe I can publish the next chapter around the 20th but seeing how much work my dear beta-reader has to do with the chapters, I can't promise that.

Have a nice weekend,

Yours Starflight.