Darting in and out between buildings – or, more accurately, what was left of them – Josh and T'Katha made their way urgently towards their objective.
The blazing sun was slowly disappearing over the horizon, but not as quickly as Josh would've liked. Unbidden, the scientist in him noted that the planet's rotational period was clearly much slower than Earth's. They had hours of daylight – and searing heat – left yet.
Then the part of Josh that was a solider evicted the scientist from his thoughts. They had arrived at their destination – or, at least, close to it.
A full-scale melee combat was raging in the middle of a street. Two or three dozen Klingons were fighting with a roughly equal number of Cardassians, who were using sticks, knives, pipes, and anything else they could get their hands on to strike back with. Josh crouched down and did is best to remain quiet; though he realized it was entirely unnecessary. Between Klingon battle cries and Cardassians screaming in agony, there was enough pandemonium going on that Josh could probably have landed a shuttle and no one would've noticed.
Still, he persisted in muttering under his breath. "I wonder why the Cardassians are fighting hand-to-hand?" Josh asked, half to himself, half to no one in particular.
"Perhaps they do not have any energy charges remaining for their weapons," T'Katha speculated, not bothering to lower her voice. Josh couldn't be certain, but she sounded different. What? Not quite - confident. Afraid, maybe? There was a brittle tone in her voice that he had never heard before.
Josh nodded, then asked, "Are you all right?"
She concentrated on her tricorder, studiously avoiding meeting his eyes. "Yes. My voice is somewhat hoarse, no doubt due to my lack of water consumption." It was an excuse, and a pretty lame one at that. She knew it, and she knew he did too.
He carefully cupped her jaw in his hand and gently guided her head up so that her gaze met his. "Hey," he murmured softly, "we're gonna get out of this, you know."
She allowed him to hold her there for the briefest of moments, then pulled herself away and restored her air of supreme confidence. Ignoring his last comment, she summoned forth her steadiest voice and said, "I have located General Kalor. He is twenty-seven meters ahead…" she paused while getting an exact direction – "…there." Pointing in the direction the tricorder had indicated, she ordered her eyes to focus in on the Klingon general.
"I see him," Josh confirmed, slipping back into his captain's persona. "There's only one or two other Klingons in his immediate vicinity. I say we make a run for it."
"I cannot think of another viable alternative," T'Katha answered.
"So you agree with me?" he repeated, more for the hell of it than anything else.
"I believe I just said that," she replied.
Josh allowed himself a quick laugh, then tapped his communicator. "Travis to Kramer. We're ready to move in on the target. Stand by."
The doctor's musical voice came back immediately. "Aye, sir. Standing by."
Josh glanced at T'Katha. "Ready?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Okay, we'll go on three. One…two…."
"Joshua," she cut him off.
He clenched his teeth as the rush of adrenaline that had been ready to burst was pushed back down momentarily. "What?"
"When you say 'on three', do you mean we should move just as you are saying 'three', or that we move after you have completed the word 'three'?"
Josh shrugged his shoulders. "Does it make a difference?"
"The details generally do."
"Fine. I'll say 'one-two-three!', then we'll go."
"Understood."
He gave her one more sidelong glance, still concerned for her, then pushed it to the back burner. He was wasting precious time.
Slowly and deliberately, he said, "One…….two……THREE!"
In perfect concert, Josh and T'Katha leapt forward from their hidden crouch and burst out into the middle of the street. Almost immediately, the sounds of battle – the clang of metal, the shouts of confusion, the roar of bloodlust, the dull rending of flesh – assaulted their hearing, overwhelmed their senses.
For Josh, every step was agony. The hellish heat – made worse by the fires raging all around them – sapped his strength, his vitality, making every exertion a test of endurance. Every muscle in his body ached in protest; his parched throat felt like glass scratching inside of him with every breath he took. A dull throbbing pounded in his head; sweat poured down off his brow, setting his eyes on fire, impairing his vision.
Twenty-seven meters. He knew athletes at the Academy who could cover that distance in less than three seconds. But every step seemed an eternity to him. Why in the hell was it taking so long? Glancing over, he could see T'Katha running with him, matching his pace stride for stride.
To his left a Klingon warrior whirled around and bellowed out in surprise. "Starfleet! Starfleet officers!" he shouted.
Shit, Josh thought. Conjuring up whatever reserves of energy he had left, he tried to force his body to accelerate the pace, reach Kalor quickly. They were so close…
Kalor finished off his opponent, neatly slicing an unfortunate Cardassian's head off, then stood up and looked about in momentary confusion. He had not yet honed in on what the other Klingon was going on about.
Just about there…
Josh was less than five paces from Kalor, T'Katha almost as close. In the confusion, Kalor had not yet spotted them. With a final, supreme effort, Josh leapt at the Klingon general and slapped the burly alien squarely in the back, pinning the small Starfleet communicator almost perfectly in the middle of his back. Crashing to the ground and rolling hard to avoid Kalor's lethal bat'leth blows, Josh tapped on his communicator.
"Travis to Kramer! Energize!"
Nothing happened. An eternity seemed to go by.
Shit, shit, shit, Josh thought. "Travis to Kramer! Energize!"
Looking up, he could see ten or more enraged Klingons rapidly converging on his position.
Coolly, T'Katha tapped on her communicator. "T'Katha to Doctor Kramer. Doctor, now would be an excellent time to activate transporters."
Josh looked about frantically. "Where in the hell could she be?" he screamed.