DEGUELLO - Chapter 12
by Trish Bennett
The cavern was a myriad of winding tunnels and jagged pathways, and Kirk's normally flawless sense of direction was beginning to fail him. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that was clouding his brain. Or the hunger. Or the pain. Kor had been right. It was a powerful combination.
Kirk had known they were making the wrong turn before they did it, but he made the mistake of second-guessing his instincts. Now he feared they were hopelessly lost in the Klingon's hellish labyrinth.
They had reached a dead end. Their last turn brought them to a chamber much like in which Kor was now imprisoned. And Kirk's frustration and frazzled nerves were beginning to take their toll.
"Dammit!" he snapped, angry with his own stupidity. He kneaded his forehead with his fingertips, hoping it would ease the throbbing in his head. It didn't.
"Look," Girard said, "maybe we should just stop here...rest for a few minutes. You really don't look well."
Probably the understatement of the century.
"No," he replied. "We've got to keep going. I don't know how long we have before reinforcements start showing up."
"Then will you at least let me help you?" she snapped. Apparently it was getting to her as well. "Stop trying to be a hero. You're hurt."
Kirk shot her an impatient glare, and their eyes locked in silent combat for several seconds before she finally relented.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
Kirk heaved a sigh. "Don't be. You just sounded like Doctor McCoy for a minute."
"Is that good or bad?"
He smiled quickly, shaking his head. "Just annoying sometimes. Come on, let's keep moving."
And then he heard it. It was a low, steady growl, almost imperceptible at first. Apparently it was not his imagination, however, for Girard's eyes met his at the same instant. Then the sound came again.
They both turned slowly, simultaneously, toward the chamber entrance.
Kirk had seen many unusual creatures in his lifetime, but this one sent a cold chill up his spine. It was small by some standards, roughly the size of a terran wolf. And in appearance, it was something of a cross between a wolf and a lizard. A strip of thick, brown fur began between its pointed ears and ran the length of its reptilian back. Its long, hairless snout ended at a row of jagged, razor-edged teeth. A thick, white saliva dripped from its powerful jaws. And its body was a rich, taupish shade, almost the color of...
"I thought he said this planet was uninhabited," Girard whispered beside him without taking her eyes off the beast.
"That thing's not indigenous...it's Klingon. Look at it!"
The creature began to move slowly, warily, like a cat stalking a mouse. Kirk raised his disrupter just as warily. He slowly squeezed the trigger...
Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. And the creature was blocking the only exit.
"I think we're in trouble," he said under his breath. "Try your weapon...but take it easy."
Girard raised her disrupter carefully and squeezed the trigger. As he feared, her weapon was as useless as his own.
He set me up!
Kirk felt a rock in the pit of his stomach. If they had any chance at all left, he had to get the creature farther inside the chamber, away from the doorway. But he had to do it without provoking the beast, which could present a major problem.
"Don't move," he whispered fervently to the Lieutenant at his side. "And don't look it in the eye. It might think you're challenging it."
"No problem," she replied breathlessly.
The creature continued to inch toward them, its hungry growl intensifying. But it was still blocking their only escape route. They had to take the chance.
Kirk began to edge slowly sideways, and Girard immediately followed his lead. They remained together, arm to arm, inching along so painfully slowly that Kirk felt as though he would burst. But he couldn't afford to be impatient. If they could get the thing to circle them, they just might be able to make a run for it.
But then it happened, so quickly and unexpectedly that his diminished reflexes did not have time to react. The creature lunged at them with a force that knocked Kirk to the ground, away from Lieutenant Girard. He hit the ground hard and felt his already fractured ribs shift in his chest from the sheer force of the landing. Gasping for air, he forced himself up on his hands and knees and turned his head to search for his companion.
The beast was on top of the fallen Lieutenant, and her screams echoed deafeningly inside the hollow chamber. She struggled fiercely under its weight, trying with all her might to keep the jagged teeth from reaching their mark.
Suddenly the knot in his stomach worked its way up through his chest, into his throat, and escaped through his mouth in a dreadful roar.
"No!"
He leapt at the creature with a strength he hadn't realized he still possessed and knocked it headlong away from Girard.
Kirk struggled blindly to his feet, but the beast was more agile than it appeared. It hit him like a hurricane, knocking him to his back, its gnashing teeth tearing savagely through his flesh.
Kirk wrapped his fingers around the creature's neck in an attempt to keep the teeth at bay, but it was no use. In desperation, he reached out blindly with his other hand, searching for anything he might be able to use to combat the monster. And in that flash of an instant, his hand hit a loose, jagged rock.
It was nearly three times the size of Kirk's own fist, but he seized it quickly and swung it with all his might, pummeling the creature's head with it again and again. Even after it slumped limply over his chest, Kirk continued to pound it with the stone, venting all his anger and frustration and pain through the stone in the palm of his hand. Finally the creature slid lifelessly onto the cavern floor. It was still several moments before Kirk allowed the rock to slip from his fingers.
Breathing was now a monumental effort. He gasped loudly, trying to fill his aching lungs with air, as he rolled to find Martina Girard.
She lay motionless on the cavern floor several feet away from him, her blue uniform now stained red with blood. A wave of nausea passed over him as he dragged himself to her. Outstretched on his side, the Captain grasped her arm and gently rolled her to him.
Her eyes were frigteningly peaceful. Girard offered him a feeble smile. "I'm glad I got to know you, James Kirk," she whispered weakly.
Kirk took her hand in his and made a concerted effort to steady both his breathing and his voice. He was not entirely successful.
"I'm sorry," was all he could find to say.
"Don't be sorry. Just promise me something."
"Anything."
Her eyelids fluttered, her breathing grew shallow, and her voice was barely audible now. "Remember me..."
Kirk closed his eyes tightly against the unrelenting nausea and grief before he was finally able to look at her again.
"You know I will."
Then he remembered another promise he had made to her. Kirk leaned down to kiss her gently on the lips.
In that instant, he knew that she was gone. Her hand went deathly limp in his, her lips suddenly unresponsive. Still he lingered there a moment before exhaling a shaky breath.
"...and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest..."
He neither knew nor cared how long he clung to her lifeless body there on the floor of his Klingon hell, but he was finally able to pull himself away. Mercifully, her eyes were closed. He brought her hand up to kiss it gently, then then slid his arm from under her and rolled to his back to lie fully reclined beside her.
Kirk closed his tired eyes. He was alone now. There was nothing to look forward to anymore, nothing left to fight for. And in a strange sort of way, it was almost comforting.
But apparently he was to be denied even that much solace as the melodious Klingon voice assaulted his ears.
"How very touching."
Kirk wanted to ignore him, wanted desperately to pretend that he didn't exist. Kor had played him like a pipe, and Kirk had let him do it. The Klingon had let him believe that he could escape, but at the last moment had pulled the net back in on him again. He had given him hope and then snatched it away. And that was probably the cruellest torture of all.
Kor was standing over him, the incessant grin clinging to his lips.
"Lesson number seven, Captain," he said, as if reading Kirk's mind. "You didn't honestly think I would hand you a charged disrupter, did you?"
Kirk glared at him in silence.
"Well," Kor said contentedly, "it's not exactly the end I had in mind for you, Captain, but it was extremely entertaining."
Kirk hadn't realized until now how severely the beast had injured him. With the gaping wounds at his shoulder and side, he would probably bleed to death in a very short time. It just didn't seem to matter anymore.
Whatever it was Kor wanted to see, Kirk was surely not providing it. He watched the Klingon's face indifferently, then turned his head to gaze absently at the cavern ceiling above him.
Kor seemed unaffected by his apparent lack of concern. "It was a pleasure to see you again, old friend," he purred, then shook his head ruefully. "If only you were Klingon..."
And almost immediately, Kirk was left alone, more completely alone than he had ever been in his life. Never again would he feel the comforting warmth of his ship...the easy, graceful feel of the command chair beneath him. No more relaxing drinks with McCoy. No more harrowing chess tournaments with Spock...
"Spock," he said aloud, then more fervently, "Spock!" His eyes closed briefly. "I'm sorry, old friend. Sorry that you never got to know yourself...the way I did."
Suddenly he began to see his officers, one by one in his mind. The more he spoke, the easier the words seemed to come. It was comforting, in a way, to be able to say goodbye.
"Bones," he said. "You always said that men should never have to die in space. I'm just glad that, when your time came, you were among friends."
Kirk's eyes scanned the ceiling, as if searching for their faces in the hard, implacable rock. A smile suddenly played on his cracked lips.
"Scotty..." he began. "You are the only person who has ever made me feel that my ship wasn't completely my own...and the only one who could ever have gotten away with it. It was a privilege to share her with you."
The Captain breathed deeply.
"And Uhura...whose name means freedom. I think your greatest beauty was the dignity you bestowed that name."
His smile broadened at his next thought, and he closed his eyes briefly before continuing.
"Chekov..." he muttered. "I'm glad you never lost the innocence of youth...and that you never had to learn that not everything was a Russian invention..."
Then he thought of his helmsman, the steady, reliable Sulu, talking to his plants...fencing in the gym...marveling with pride over his gun collection...
"And Sulu...whose interests were as vast as his abilities. I never had to worry about you. Maybe I took you for granted because of that. I just hope you knew what an asset you were to me."
Kirk heaved a painful sigh.
"I hope you all did."
His eyes roamed to Lieutenant Girard beside him. Then he turned his head back and closed his eyes.
"Take us home, Mr. Sulu," he said softly. "Take us home."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Enterprise had nearly reached the second planet of the star system, and thus far they had encountered no resistance. Spock's hypothesis had been correct. Now if he could retrieve the landing party and return to the Enterprise with the same alacrity, he would consider himself very fortunate, indeed.
A sudden uneasiness made him draw his breath sharply. Something was different. The Captain's presence, though still with him, was beginning to wane. Spock sat back in the command chair and gazed sternly into the viewscreen before him.
"Captain..." he said softly, though he had no reason to believe that he could be heard. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
Jim...you must hold on. I shall be there shortly.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kirk was drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness. He felt relaxed and peaceful, more so than he had ever been. He did not even feel the pain anymore.
Suddenly, something made him draw a sharp breath. His eyes snapped open.
"...Spock?"
It was no more than a whisper. Then his vision finally focused on the cavern, the creature, and the spreading crimson stain that soaked his gold uniform.
It had to happen sooner or later. He was losing his mind. But that voice...though he had felt it more than he actually heard it, it was so real. So insistent.
He closed his eyes again, but the words remained etched in his mind.
Hold on...hold on...
by Trish Bennett
The cavern was a myriad of winding tunnels and jagged pathways, and Kirk's normally flawless sense of direction was beginning to fail him. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that was clouding his brain. Or the hunger. Or the pain. Kor had been right. It was a powerful combination.
Kirk had known they were making the wrong turn before they did it, but he made the mistake of second-guessing his instincts. Now he feared they were hopelessly lost in the Klingon's hellish labyrinth.
They had reached a dead end. Their last turn brought them to a chamber much like in which Kor was now imprisoned. And Kirk's frustration and frazzled nerves were beginning to take their toll.
"Dammit!" he snapped, angry with his own stupidity. He kneaded his forehead with his fingertips, hoping it would ease the throbbing in his head. It didn't.
"Look," Girard said, "maybe we should just stop here...rest for a few minutes. You really don't look well."
Probably the understatement of the century.
"No," he replied. "We've got to keep going. I don't know how long we have before reinforcements start showing up."
"Then will you at least let me help you?" she snapped. Apparently it was getting to her as well. "Stop trying to be a hero. You're hurt."
Kirk shot her an impatient glare, and their eyes locked in silent combat for several seconds before she finally relented.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
Kirk heaved a sigh. "Don't be. You just sounded like Doctor McCoy for a minute."
"Is that good or bad?"
He smiled quickly, shaking his head. "Just annoying sometimes. Come on, let's keep moving."
And then he heard it. It was a low, steady growl, almost imperceptible at first. Apparently it was not his imagination, however, for Girard's eyes met his at the same instant. Then the sound came again.
They both turned slowly, simultaneously, toward the chamber entrance.
Kirk had seen many unusual creatures in his lifetime, but this one sent a cold chill up his spine. It was small by some standards, roughly the size of a terran wolf. And in appearance, it was something of a cross between a wolf and a lizard. A strip of thick, brown fur began between its pointed ears and ran the length of its reptilian back. Its long, hairless snout ended at a row of jagged, razor-edged teeth. A thick, white saliva dripped from its powerful jaws. And its body was a rich, taupish shade, almost the color of...
"I thought he said this planet was uninhabited," Girard whispered beside him without taking her eyes off the beast.
"That thing's not indigenous...it's Klingon. Look at it!"
The creature began to move slowly, warily, like a cat stalking a mouse. Kirk raised his disrupter just as warily. He slowly squeezed the trigger...
Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. And the creature was blocking the only exit.
"I think we're in trouble," he said under his breath. "Try your weapon...but take it easy."
Girard raised her disrupter carefully and squeezed the trigger. As he feared, her weapon was as useless as his own.
He set me up!
Kirk felt a rock in the pit of his stomach. If they had any chance at all left, he had to get the creature farther inside the chamber, away from the doorway. But he had to do it without provoking the beast, which could present a major problem.
"Don't move," he whispered fervently to the Lieutenant at his side. "And don't look it in the eye. It might think you're challenging it."
"No problem," she replied breathlessly.
The creature continued to inch toward them, its hungry growl intensifying. But it was still blocking their only escape route. They had to take the chance.
Kirk began to edge slowly sideways, and Girard immediately followed his lead. They remained together, arm to arm, inching along so painfully slowly that Kirk felt as though he would burst. But he couldn't afford to be impatient. If they could get the thing to circle them, they just might be able to make a run for it.
But then it happened, so quickly and unexpectedly that his diminished reflexes did not have time to react. The creature lunged at them with a force that knocked Kirk to the ground, away from Lieutenant Girard. He hit the ground hard and felt his already fractured ribs shift in his chest from the sheer force of the landing. Gasping for air, he forced himself up on his hands and knees and turned his head to search for his companion.
The beast was on top of the fallen Lieutenant, and her screams echoed deafeningly inside the hollow chamber. She struggled fiercely under its weight, trying with all her might to keep the jagged teeth from reaching their mark.
Suddenly the knot in his stomach worked its way up through his chest, into his throat, and escaped through his mouth in a dreadful roar.
"No!"
He leapt at the creature with a strength he hadn't realized he still possessed and knocked it headlong away from Girard.
Kirk struggled blindly to his feet, but the beast was more agile than it appeared. It hit him like a hurricane, knocking him to his back, its gnashing teeth tearing savagely through his flesh.
Kirk wrapped his fingers around the creature's neck in an attempt to keep the teeth at bay, but it was no use. In desperation, he reached out blindly with his other hand, searching for anything he might be able to use to combat the monster. And in that flash of an instant, his hand hit a loose, jagged rock.
It was nearly three times the size of Kirk's own fist, but he seized it quickly and swung it with all his might, pummeling the creature's head with it again and again. Even after it slumped limply over his chest, Kirk continued to pound it with the stone, venting all his anger and frustration and pain through the stone in the palm of his hand. Finally the creature slid lifelessly onto the cavern floor. It was still several moments before Kirk allowed the rock to slip from his fingers.
Breathing was now a monumental effort. He gasped loudly, trying to fill his aching lungs with air, as he rolled to find Martina Girard.
She lay motionless on the cavern floor several feet away from him, her blue uniform now stained red with blood. A wave of nausea passed over him as he dragged himself to her. Outstretched on his side, the Captain grasped her arm and gently rolled her to him.
Her eyes were frigteningly peaceful. Girard offered him a feeble smile. "I'm glad I got to know you, James Kirk," she whispered weakly.
Kirk took her hand in his and made a concerted effort to steady both his breathing and his voice. He was not entirely successful.
"I'm sorry," was all he could find to say.
"Don't be sorry. Just promise me something."
"Anything."
Her eyelids fluttered, her breathing grew shallow, and her voice was barely audible now. "Remember me..."
Kirk closed his eyes tightly against the unrelenting nausea and grief before he was finally able to look at her again.
"You know I will."
Then he remembered another promise he had made to her. Kirk leaned down to kiss her gently on the lips.
In that instant, he knew that she was gone. Her hand went deathly limp in his, her lips suddenly unresponsive. Still he lingered there a moment before exhaling a shaky breath.
"...and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest..."
He neither knew nor cared how long he clung to her lifeless body there on the floor of his Klingon hell, but he was finally able to pull himself away. Mercifully, her eyes were closed. He brought her hand up to kiss it gently, then then slid his arm from under her and rolled to his back to lie fully reclined beside her.
Kirk closed his tired eyes. He was alone now. There was nothing to look forward to anymore, nothing left to fight for. And in a strange sort of way, it was almost comforting.
But apparently he was to be denied even that much solace as the melodious Klingon voice assaulted his ears.
"How very touching."
Kirk wanted to ignore him, wanted desperately to pretend that he didn't exist. Kor had played him like a pipe, and Kirk had let him do it. The Klingon had let him believe that he could escape, but at the last moment had pulled the net back in on him again. He had given him hope and then snatched it away. And that was probably the cruellest torture of all.
Kor was standing over him, the incessant grin clinging to his lips.
"Lesson number seven, Captain," he said, as if reading Kirk's mind. "You didn't honestly think I would hand you a charged disrupter, did you?"
Kirk glared at him in silence.
"Well," Kor said contentedly, "it's not exactly the end I had in mind for you, Captain, but it was extremely entertaining."
Kirk hadn't realized until now how severely the beast had injured him. With the gaping wounds at his shoulder and side, he would probably bleed to death in a very short time. It just didn't seem to matter anymore.
Whatever it was Kor wanted to see, Kirk was surely not providing it. He watched the Klingon's face indifferently, then turned his head to gaze absently at the cavern ceiling above him.
Kor seemed unaffected by his apparent lack of concern. "It was a pleasure to see you again, old friend," he purred, then shook his head ruefully. "If only you were Klingon..."
And almost immediately, Kirk was left alone, more completely alone than he had ever been in his life. Never again would he feel the comforting warmth of his ship...the easy, graceful feel of the command chair beneath him. No more relaxing drinks with McCoy. No more harrowing chess tournaments with Spock...
"Spock," he said aloud, then more fervently, "Spock!" His eyes closed briefly. "I'm sorry, old friend. Sorry that you never got to know yourself...the way I did."
Suddenly he began to see his officers, one by one in his mind. The more he spoke, the easier the words seemed to come. It was comforting, in a way, to be able to say goodbye.
"Bones," he said. "You always said that men should never have to die in space. I'm just glad that, when your time came, you were among friends."
Kirk's eyes scanned the ceiling, as if searching for their faces in the hard, implacable rock. A smile suddenly played on his cracked lips.
"Scotty..." he began. "You are the only person who has ever made me feel that my ship wasn't completely my own...and the only one who could ever have gotten away with it. It was a privilege to share her with you."
The Captain breathed deeply.
"And Uhura...whose name means freedom. I think your greatest beauty was the dignity you bestowed that name."
His smile broadened at his next thought, and he closed his eyes briefly before continuing.
"Chekov..." he muttered. "I'm glad you never lost the innocence of youth...and that you never had to learn that not everything was a Russian invention..."
Then he thought of his helmsman, the steady, reliable Sulu, talking to his plants...fencing in the gym...marveling with pride over his gun collection...
"And Sulu...whose interests were as vast as his abilities. I never had to worry about you. Maybe I took you for granted because of that. I just hope you knew what an asset you were to me."
Kirk heaved a painful sigh.
"I hope you all did."
His eyes roamed to Lieutenant Girard beside him. Then he turned his head back and closed his eyes.
"Take us home, Mr. Sulu," he said softly. "Take us home."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Enterprise had nearly reached the second planet of the star system, and thus far they had encountered no resistance. Spock's hypothesis had been correct. Now if he could retrieve the landing party and return to the Enterprise with the same alacrity, he would consider himself very fortunate, indeed.
A sudden uneasiness made him draw his breath sharply. Something was different. The Captain's presence, though still with him, was beginning to wane. Spock sat back in the command chair and gazed sternly into the viewscreen before him.
"Captain..." he said softly, though he had no reason to believe that he could be heard. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
Jim...you must hold on. I shall be there shortly.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kirk was drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness. He felt relaxed and peaceful, more so than he had ever been. He did not even feel the pain anymore.
Suddenly, something made him draw a sharp breath. His eyes snapped open.
"...Spock?"
It was no more than a whisper. Then his vision finally focused on the cavern, the creature, and the spreading crimson stain that soaked his gold uniform.
It had to happen sooner or later. He was losing his mind. But that voice...though he had felt it more than he actually heard it, it was so real. So insistent.
He closed his eyes again, but the words remained etched in his mind.
Hold on...hold on...