"Finally decided to show up, did we?" The Klingon hissed at Kirk from the other end of the ring. The city guards dumped Kirk on the ground on the inside of the cage and slammed the door shut behind him. Kirk squeezed his eyes shut in agony, the pain shooting through his chest and his brain throbbing out of his skull.
"This is the final match of the Great Tournament!" Toolah-Fal's voice boomed over the speakers. "Let's make some noise!" The crowd's cheering only made Kirk's head hurt with a new intensity. "Today's final match is between the Klingon warrior Talkee!" The giant paused to let the crowd cheer. "And Captain James T. Kirk of the infamous Starfleet!" The crowd began to chant his name as Kirk forced himself to stand up. His legs wobbled beneath him, threatening to give out at any moment. He cradled his arm against his chest as he narrowed his eyes at his opponent. The Klingon let his lips curl into a ruthless smile.
"Talkee! Choose your weapon!" Toolah-Fal yelled and a weapon's cart was wheeled into the Klingon's corner of the ring. Talkee selected a gleaming silver sword from the rack, which was whisked away quickly. "And let the fight begin!" Toolah-Fal's were nearly drowned out by the crowd's cheering.
Kirk swayed on his feet, his vision becoming blurry once again. He curled his free hand loosely into a fist and held it defensively by his face. The Klingon showboated the sword, swinging it back and forth.
"What's wrong, Captain? Your feet glue to the floor?" The Klingon jeered and Kirk took a half-step forward.
What would you do for your family? Khan's words echoed in Kirk's head, shaking him back into the harsh reality.
"Are you upset because you're going to die? Or is it because your little friends are going to be skinned alive?" The Klingon feigned sympathy as he continued to swing his sword.
Anything. Kirk narrowed his eyes and his lips curved into a frown of determination. He lunged at the Klingon with all his might, watching as the sword swung millimeters away from his chest. He dodged the swing and kicked out the Klingon's legs, sending him crashing to the floor in a heap. The Klingon slashed at Kirk's legs, but Kirk let his adrenaline drive him and jumped over each swing.
"You wanna know something, Talkee?" Kirk yelled as he kicked dull edge of the sword with his thick-soled boot. The sword clattered to the floor of the arena, just out of the Klingon's reach. "Your people, they attacked my ship. And I slaughtered each and every one of them." Kirk clenched his teeth. "And I'm going to do the same to you." He growled and snatched the sword from the floor, slashing it at the Klingon.
Talkee laughed at Kirk, easily dodging each of his attacks. "Oh Captain, my captain. It seems as though you've lost some of your sense." The Klingon laughed, watching as Kirk's adrenaline craze began to wear off and the fatigue began to set back in. "Can you even see me right now? How many fingers am I holding up?" Talkee held up three fingers mockingly and Kirk jabbed the sword at him again, missing him by a mile.
Kirk felt the blood begin to flow from the cut on his chest. His legs began to feel unstable again. He knew that he was losing ground, and quickly at that.
"I can go like this all day. You, however, cannot." The Klingon hissed. "Give it up."
/
The city guards marched Spock and McCoy down the long, winding corridor. Each step they took, Spock began to feel the effects of the poison in his veins rising up again. He could feel the bile beginning to form in his throat, the sweat beading on his forehead. McCoy limped by his side, watching the Vulcan with a close eye.
"Tell me that you have a plan." McCoy asked, analyzing each of the Vulcan's movements.
"Unfortunately, I do not." Spock said, trying to conceal his raspy breathing.
"Peachy." McCoy grumbled.
The guards marched them forward to a large holding cell. They swung open a large steel-barred door and threw McCoy and Spock inside unceremoniously. Spock hit the floor hard and couldn't muster the strength to stand up again.
"Spock?" McCoy asked, dragging himself over to Spock. He laid his hand gently on Spock's burning forehead and cursed under his breath. "Spock, can you hear me?"
"Yes...doctor..." Spock said weakly, keeping his eyes shut.
"Good. That's good, Spock. Alright, now I need you to stay awake and talking, okay?" McCoy said and Spock barely nodded in response. "So, Spock. Tell me about New Vulcan." He said as he pulled his tricorder from his belt.
"It is... quite suitable... for Vulcans..." Spock breathed as McCoy waved the tricorder around his body. "The temperature... is... very similar to... the old planet..." Spock struggled to let the words out of his mouth.
"Yeah, tell me more." McCoy tried to sound interested as the tricoder pulled up a rash on the scan. McCoy carefully rolled up the sleeve of Spock's shirt and saw the blistering mass.
"Th-there isn't... much more to tell..." Spock gulped as McCoy wrapped bandages around the sensitive skin of his forearm. "I... I am not doing... well... am I, doctor?" Spock breathed and McCoy answered his question with silence. "Tell me." Spock demanded.
"If we don't get you to the proper care," McCoy started, but hesitated to finish. "You'll be done for before nightfall."
/
"Give it up, Captain!" Talkee laughed as Kirk lost his balance and crumpled to the floor. He held up the sword defensively, trying to scoot away from the Klingon. "You can't win!" The Klingon stood over Kirk. He kicked the sword from Kirk's hand and scooped it up off the floor. "If it makes you feel any better, I will only make your death a little slow and painful." The Klingon held the sword against Kirk's throat. Kirk squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the blow.
"Goodbye, Captain."