DEGUELLO - Chapter 9
by Trish Bennett

Lieutenant Girard was tired. How long had it been now? An hour...a day...a week? She couldn't be sure. She had been pacing about the cavern searching for a means of escape, but so far to no avail. The chamber was barren, and she could find only one exit. Unfortunately, it happened to be the way they came in, and it was obstructed by an impenetrable force field.

It was a concentrated effort to ignore the corpse of her crewmate on the cavern floor, but she couldn't allow herself to think about that right now. I'll think about it tomorrow, she decided, and the thought brought a grim smile to her lips.

It was a passage from a book she had read long ago, a novel about the 19th century Civil War in America. At the time, she had berated the novel's heroine for refusing to face reality, but now she understood with shocking clarity. By allowing yourself to dwell on your failures, you lose sight of the one thing that will see you through them -- hope.

Girard turned back to look at Kirk, who was slumped uncomfortably on the stone floor against the cavern wall. He seemed drained almost to the point of exhaustion. If only he could sleep, at least for a little while, maybe he could regain some of his strength. Then they could find a way out of here together. But as much as she wanted to, she couldn't let him sleep. Better for her to keep him awake than the Klingons. She had to keep him talking.

"You know, Captain," she said, continuing her surveillance in an attempt to keep herself awake. "I had heard..."

Kirk interrupted with a feeble chuckle. "I think we can forego the official titles at this point, Lieutenant. It's Jim."

Her surprise quickly transformed to a smile. "Tina," she corrected. "Anyway, I had heard that you were something of a literary scholar."

"A scholar?" His voice was tinged with amusement. "I don't know if I'd go that far."

"Who's your favorite author?"

Kirk's eyes closed briefly, and he seemed to shiver slightly before opening them again.

"Look, Lieutenant...Tina...I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it really isn't necessary."

"I'm trying to amuse myself," she countered quickly. "And believe me, it is necessary."

He gazed at her in silence, then finally looked away, shifting his weight in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. It didn't seem to help.

"All right," he said, but she got the distinct impression that he didn't quite believe her. "I don't think it gets much better than Shakespeare."

Girard stopped her inspection of the rough cavern walls and turned to face him.

"You're kidding."

He smiled wearily. "You don't like Shakespeare?"

"No, on the contrary. I enjoy it very much." She couldn't seem to stop staring at him, and feared her expression was probably one of awe.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just that..." She finally moved to sit facing him on the floor beside his outstretched legs. "You just...well, you kind of surprise me, that's all."

"How's that?"

She almost wished she hadn't started this conversation. Here she was, Martina Girard, having a personal conversation with the Captain of the Federation's flagship. What could she possibly say that would be of any interest to him?

But he had asked a question, and she did have his undivided attention. Actually, he seemed rather curious. She decided to press on.

"I heard a lot of things about you, especially at the Academy. Frankly, I wasn't sure how much of it to believe." Suddenly she found her own curiosity getting the best of her. "Is it true you beat the Kobayashi Maru test?"

Kirk smiled. "On my third attempt."

"You took it three times?"

"I don't like to lose," he said quickly. So quickly, in fact, that she got the impression it was his standard response to a question he was asked often.

"I guess not. But you're the only person who has ever beaten it. How did you do it?"

The Captain appeared pleasantly reluctant. "I don't think Starfleet Academy would want that to become public knowledge."

"No, I don't suppose they would." She tried to sound only slightly disappointed. "Still, I don't see how you did it. Short of reprogramming the simulator, there's no..."

Kirk's surprised reaction made her cut herself short abruptly.

"No!", she said in disbelief. "You reprogrammed the simulator? And you didn't get kicked out?"

Kirk motioned her closer with a tilt of his head. Girard leaned forward inquisitively.

"I've got a little secret," he whispered in her ear. "I got a commendation for originality."

Girard sat back to look at him, unsure whether to believe him or not. "Now you're teasing me," she said.

"Maybe," he replied with a verbal shrug. "Maybe not."

The Lieutenant was not entirely convinced, but it didn't seem to matter as she considered her new Captain thoughtfully. Knowing of someone was so much different than actually knowing them. And James Kirk could be an absolute treat.

"Well, if you did," she said finally, "you must be truly blessed."

Kirk's eyes surveyed the room around them ruefully, and she suddenly saw a hint of gloom in them.

"It doesn't seem so at the moment, does it?"

"You're really quite different than I expected," she offered quickly, trying to keep his mind off their current predicament. "You're a very complex man."

Kirk inhaled deeply, but the action made him cringe against the pain. After a moment, he chuckled morosely and drew his arms in to cradle his injured side.

"...Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man..."

Girard recognized the words with mild alarm. It was Mercutio's death speech from Romeo and Juliet. She felt her stomach tighten, and she reached out to grasp his shackled hands in hers.

"I don't believe that," she said firmly, "and neither do you. I intend to have a long and successful career under your command, and I'm not about to let some Klingon tell me otherwise."

A hint of tenderness glistened in his eyes. As much as she wanted to, she could not look away.

"Then maybe I should try again," he said at last, his voice very near a whisper. He slid his hands from hers and reached out to tip her chin. "There lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity."

As she gazed into his face, she suddenly found that she could not quite catch her breath. Well, she thought, apparently some of the rumors about the good Captain were true.

"I like that scene much better," she whispered.

At the gentle urging of his fingertips, she leaned slowly to him. His lips were dry but soft, his kiss a light, lingering caress. And suddenly, as grim and hopeless as their situation was, there was nowhere in the universe she would rather be.

After several moments, she reluctantly pulled back and opened her eyes. She offered him a faint smile.

"Remember to do that again sometime."

"You can count on it."

She was so completely mesmerized by the power of his gaze that she failed to notice the sudden silence of the force field. The voice from the doorway nearly made her jump.

"There lies more peril in thine eye," Kor repeated mockingly, "than twenty of their swords... How truly naive you are, Captain."

Kirk glared at the Klingon. "Are you here for a reason, Kor?" he snapped angrily. "Or just to dazzle me with your charm?"

Kor grinned widely. "The charm I leave to you, my passionate friend. I have no use for it. Actually, you seemed to be enjoying yourselves. We can't have that now, can we?"

Kirk's steady glare never wavered. "Lesson number five?"

"You learn very quickly, Captain." The Klingon seemed pleased.

"There are still some questions you haven't answered, Kor."

The Klingon leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. It was a smug, arrogant pose.

"Soon I will have your ship, and you will be dead, and it will no longer be of any importance."

"Humor me," Kirk said, but there was no humor in his voice.

"Why not?" He shrugged. "What would you have me explain for you, Captain?"

"How did you know where I'd be?"

Kor's smile broadened. "Your mighty Federation's security is somewhat lax, Kirk. You humans can be such trusting souls...especially when you believe some greater power is assuring your safety. It was really a rather simple matter to acquire your mission docket."

"But you won't tell me how?"

Kor seemed to ponder the question. "No," he said at last. "I don't believe I will."

Kirk remained undaunted. "Where are we now?"

"You are on an uninhabited planet deep inside the Neutral Zone."

The Captain's face fell ever so slightly. "And my ship?"

"Your ship has taken a cowardly position at the edge of the Zone. I have sent my vessel to retrieve it."

"You'll never get away with it, Kor." Girard caught just a tinge of doubt in the Captain's voice.

"And who's to stop me, Captain?" the Klingon gloated. "Your precious crew? I doubt it. You? Not very likely. Your Organian saviours, perhaps? Well...they haven't yet, have they?" He paused, appearing infinitely satisfied with himself. "Anything else?"

"How long have we been here?"

"Approximately thirty-two of your hours," Kor replied. "I imagine you must be rather tired by now. And hungry, no doubt."

Kirk merely glared at him.

"You are a stubborn one, aren't you?" Kor finally moved farther into the cavern. "But pain and hunger and fatigue can be a powerful combination. It will take its toll in time. Soon you will crawl on your hands and knees to beg me for your life. That is when I shall deprive you of it." The Klingon grinned widely. "Lesson number six, Captain."

Kirk merely smirked. "Don't count on it."

"la',ra'wI'!"

The shout came from a distance, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. Kor turned, apparently angered by the interruption.

"nuqneH," he barked.

They continued to speak in their native Klingon, but Girard could tell that Kor was clearly displeased. She leaned closer to the Captain.

"What are they saying?"

"I'm not sure," Kirk replied quietly, his eyes fixed upon their captors. "Something about the Enterprise, I think."

Kor suddenly drew his weapon and leveled it at the sentry. "Do'Ha'," he growled, quickly pulling the trigger. The centurion screamed as the disrupter blast struck him and promptly disintegrated before their eyes. It took several moments for Kor to regain his composure.

Girard glanced quickly toward the Captain beside her. There was a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Kill the messenger..." he said with satisfaction. "Bad news, Kor?"

The Klingon turned his angry glare on Kirk. He was still breathing heavily in the heat of his rage.

"It would seem that my crew has been somewhat overzealous. Your ship has been destroyed."

The Lieutenant looked back at Kirk. His face was suddenly ashen, and he appeared to be struggling with his own composure.

"That's not true!" he whispered, as if saying it could somehow make it so.

"There's no one to save you now, Kirk," Kor chuckled gruesomely. "And mine is the last face you will ever see. Ponder that for a while."

Girard watched after him only a moment as he reactivated the force field, then turned back to Kirk. He looked stricken and pale, the single stray lock of hair still drooping over his forehead. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were red.

Her own eyes welled with tears as he slid his shackled wrists over her head and took her in his arms. She rested against him, sobbing quietly on his shoulder.

"Sshhh. Don't cry," he whispered soothingly. "Please don't cry."

But he clung to her as if his very soul depended on it.