To
Fly on Waxen Wings, Chapter Four:
"I am dead. As of this moment, we are all dead. We go into battle to reclaim our lives. This we do gladly, for we are Jem'Hadar. Remember… Victory is life."
-Battle Oath of the Jem'Hadar Warrior, "To The Death"
-----
Sehti was not an important Khanate, in fact, one could easily go so far as to say that he was completely unimportant. His genetic material, though infinitely more impressive than a baseline Human's, had failed him, leaving him weaker and slower than other members of his race. He was crippled and disabled, a nothing in the eyes of those who should have been his peers. Usually, those like him were put to death as children, to erase the possibility of them becoming a burden on society. He considered himself to be extremely fortunate to even be alive, let alone to work on the bridge of a ship like the Gilgamesh.
His duties were relegated to next to nothing, easy chores for the poor, slow Sehti. Around him rose the semi-circular bridge, three tiers of Khanate and Jem'Hadar manning various stations that faced an enormous curving viewscreen that, at the moment, showed the ruined city of San Francisco, the sun just starting to peek through the ashen cloud cover. Sehti sat at the very bottom of the tiers, maintaining power usage across the enormous cruiser. A slow, tedious job, watching power levels that never flickered. And so much of the time, he dreamed. Dreamed of becoming the Khanate he should have been, of ruling over the entire Galaxy with the Lady Aishwarya at his side, of her brother Rakiin begging forgiveness at his feet, of crushing the tiny remains of the Federation in his fist while the entire Khanate race chanted his name. Sehti! Sehti! Sehti!
So focused was he upon this latest fantasy that he completely missed the tiny flicker in the power readouts, noticing only when the main core crashed and the ship began to fall.
-----
Kordath, eldest Son of Kamor, understood rage. He knew how it could be as useful as the sharpest bat'leth when honed and focused, but he had also seen how it would consume the user when denied that focus, how it would creep through a man's soul and turn the master into the slave. Darkness and light were divided by a thin line of blood, but whose blood, no one could say until it was drawn.
As he struck the glossy black hull of the Gilgamesh, he felt the rage burning in the back of his mind, a wild Targ wrapped in chains, biting, clawing to be free. Resolutely, he came to an understanding with the beast. The Targ would be given it's prey soon enough, would be freed soon enough, but for now, it had to remain silent. Snarling and snapping, but reservedly obedient, it crawled back into it's cage, allowing Kordath to think clearly.
High winds threatened to force him from the Khanate ship's hull, sending him rolling to the side almost as soon as he had landed. Swinging around, he sank his bat'leth deep into the black armoured plates, producing an ear-splitting shriek that drowned out even the howling winds as he anchored himself. Pulling himself to his feet, he watched as two of the blade-winged Kindjals streaked into the clouds, intent on the destruction of the Icarus. The Targ snapped and hissed, but stayed put. Tal and Nyssa could handle the Kindjals, and he forced any thought of them from his mind. He had deceived his friends, lied about his reasons for wishing to board the Gilgamesh. He had not come for the Captain. He knew that she could save herself. No, his reasons were far more personal, and he hoped that his ancestors would forgive his lie.
Cracking open an access hatch on the ship's spine, he dropped into the darkened recesses of the Gilgamesh, a hunter stalking his prey.
-----
Claudius stared in shock as Gilgamesh plunged into darkness, the eight story high cavern that was main engineering falling into shadow as the warp coils that ringed it faded into shadow. The floor shifted beneath his feet as artificial gravity shut down, the Earth's own pull catching hold of the enormous cruiser and dragging it inexorably towards the ground, the stuttering remnants of her anti-gravity units struggling to keep her upright. Grasping the railing behind him, he watched as the room tilted, sending Khanate engineers and Jem'Hadar guards alike tumbling.
"Emergency power! Activate emergency power!"
Helena dropped from the third story gangplank and hit the deck running, the chief engineer's slim form racing for the main control panels. Claudius released the railing and skidded along the rapidly steepening slope to her side, reaching the backup power generator almost as soon as she did. Without even looking at each other, the two Khanate activated the core, the room quickly righting itself as the crimson emergency lights rose. A look of fury on her face, Helena turned and glared at Claudius.
"Find out what the Hell just happened!"
-----
Herma'Taklan stepped into the detention cells, his nose wrinkling at the rancid smell of burnt flesh. Scowling, he knelt beside the two dead Jem'Hadar guards, examining their wounds with a careful eye. Plasma burns. They had been killed with Jem'Hadar weapons. Casting his eyes about, he saw the unconscious form of the Changeling, the limp body of the Lady Aishwarya, but no sign of his men's energy weapons.
And no sign of the Humans.
With a moan, Aishwarya opened her eyes, shifting as she pushed herself to her knees. Herma'Taklan stood and stepped to her side, cautiously examining her. Her clothes were burnt, a black mar on the golden fabrics. A stun discharge at point-blank range to the chest. Grabbing her wrist, he forced her to look at him as he growled, "What happened here?"
"The guards were going to kill the Humans." Her voice was weak, her eyes unfocused as she fought to free herself from unconsciousness. "The Changeling went mad, distracted the guards. The Humans captured me, they killed the Jem'Hadar. They killed them."
Herma'Taklan frowned, a deep pit of uncertainty growing inside of him. Something else happened here. "Where are they going?"
"I do not know, Commander. I do not know."
Releasing the Lady's arm, Herma'Taklan pulled two pikes from the weapons cache at the doors. His Lord needed to know of this. He would not avoid responsibility. The guards had been under his command, their failure had been his. His race had made the same oath for their entire history. Regardless of whether they had served the Dominion or the Khanate, the oath had never changed.
I am dead. We are all dead. We go into battle to win back our lives. This we do gladly, because we are Jem'Hadar. Remember. Victory is Life.
He was dead. And until he reclaimed the Humans and redeemed his men's dishonour, he would remain so.
Victory is life.
As he set out into the corridors to search for his Lord, he gripped the pikes more tightly.
I am dead.
-----
Rakiin sat in the darkness of his Observation chamber, the floor inactive, the only lights the flickering holographic torches set into the walls. His ship had failed, his crew had failed…
His own control had failed.
At his feet lay the body of the Jem'Hadar guard who had been unable to explain what was happening sufficiently quickly for his tastes. Now he sat alone in his sanctuary, seething as his ship struggled to right itself.
Herma'Taklan entered the chamber, the Jem'Hadar commander's long white hair dyed a blood red by the dull emergency lights. In either hand, he held one of the long pikes his race seemed to favour. Kneeling, the Jem'Hadar bowed his head, nearly touching the deck. "My Lord."
Rakiin leaned back in his command throne, and stared at the Jem'Hadar over the tips of his steepled fingers. "What happened, Commander?" His voice was sharp as a dagger, cutting through the tension filled air, every syllable striking Herma'Taklan like a blow. To the Jem'Hadar's credit, he never even glanced at the corpse lying at Rakiin's feet.
"The Starfleeters have escaped, My Lord. The one, Carver, the engineer, infiltrated our computer and corrupted our systems."
Rising, Rakiin turned his back on Herma'Taklan, listening to the omnipresent screams of the alarms as he stepped over the corpse. With every breath, he felt his control on his anger slipping. "How did they escape?"
"The forcefield was deactivated, My Lord Rakiin. The Changeling was interrogating the Human."
"He was interrogating the Human without your presence? Without my knowledge?" Rakiin's voice was tense, a taught wire on the verge of snapping. Control. He needed control. "And why was the forcefield deactivated, Commander."
Herma'Taklan's response was strong, but filled with shame. "My men were going to kill the Humans."
With a primal scream, Rakiin spun around, dagger in hand. The steel blade slid across Herma'Taklan's face, arcing away tipped in milky white blood. The force of the blow knocked the Jem'Hadar to the ground, the pikes skittering off across the deck as Rakiin stood over him, his chest heaving beneath his dark tunic. Herma'Taklan remained still, quivering as he fought the urge to touch the wound that now ran from his right temple to his left cheek, marring his elegant features. Kneeling before the Commander, Rakiin snarled, his eyes burning. "Penance for your failure, Jem'Hadar. You are dead."
Herma'Taklan nodded, "I am dead."
Rakiin stood. "I give you one chance to reclaim your life, dead man. One chance to redeem yourself.
"Find the Humans, and I will let you live."
Herma'Taklan nodded, a fierce determination tinged with pain growing in his dark eyes, ivory blood tinted scarlet in the light. "Do you wish them alive or dead, My Lord?"
Rakiin took a deep breath, fighting to regain control of himself as he fought rage born of a feeling of helplessness. Control. Control. His voice became very calm, and almost conversational as he answered.
"I want Carver alive."
-----
Alex crept through the shadows behind Selene, Jason's left arm looped around his shoulders, his own right arm supporting his friend while his left clutched the Jem'Hadar rifle. Selene looked back over her shoulder at him. "'We'll make it', you said. I don't know where the Kindjal bay is, do you?"
He nodded, "Downloaded the ship's specs while I was in the main computer." Letting go of Jason for a split second, he tapped his temple, "The map's right here." Selene arched an eyebrow. "Nice. Can you get us there without running into any guards?"
Alex shook his head, "I just know the layout, I don't know where the guards are." Looking around at the dark corridor and listening to the screaming alarms, he shrugged, "But my guess is that they'll be heading this way."
Jason pulled free, slumping against the wall. "I can walk." Alex frowned as he grabbed his friend's arm, "You can barely stand. What? Are you going to crawl to safety?"
Jason wrenched his arm free, stumbling for a step before catching himself. "You're hardly any better. We'll be better off if you don't have to carry me." The two old friends glared at each other for a long moment, neither willing to back down. "Or do I have to make that an order, Lieutenant?"
Alex flinched. Jason had never taken that tone with him, even if he always had been a higher rank. Selene watched the two of them, her eyes darting back and forth between them and the corridor. Footsteps rang in the distance, a counter-beat to the alarms. She hefted the rifle and took aim. "Guys. Settle this fast, because I think they're coming."
Alex broke the staring contest first, backing away and moving towards the bulkhead, moving to open an access panel. "No, Sir, Commander. That won't be necessary." Removing the panel, he waved at the maintenance tube inside. "After you."
Jason all but collapsed to the deck, crawling through the hatch. Alex looked at Selene and nodded, crawling into the hatch himself right behind her. As he reached out into the corridor to replace the panel, blue plasma bolts sizzled through the air, striking the deck inches from his hands. Jumping back into the maintenance tube, he spun and looked at the others.
"Move!"
-----
"We've got incoming!"
Nyssa's shout shocked Tal back to reality, interrupting the impromptu victory dance his mind was currently engaged in. Taking a quick glance at his scanners, he saw two Khanate fighters gaining as he throttled up and broke atmosphere. These Kindjals ducked and wove, spinning around air pockets and doggedly sticking to him. In short, these fighters were piloted by flesh and blood pilots, not stupid drones. A single phrase flew through Tal's mind as he watched his pursuers open fire.
"Oh crap."
Nyssa grabbed the back of his chair, holding on for dear life as Tal threw Icarus into a barrel roll, narrowly avoiding the phaser fire coming at them from behind. "Okay. What's the plan, now?"
Tal gulped as one of the phaser beams missed the forward hull by a couple of meters. "Plan? I don't have a plan! Do you have a plan? 'Cause I don't have a plan. You were right. We're all insane!" Pain exploded in the back of his head as Nyssa struck him with her open palm. "Will you snap out of it? Get us out of here!"
"Right. Right. Plan. Need a plan." Tal's eyes flicked back and forth across the pilot's console as he threw the ship left and right, wincing as every phaser beam shot past. "Mars. We'll go to Mars."
Nyssa looked at him like he was crazy, which, of course, was a point that Tal was ready to agree on. "Why Mars?"
"Do you want to fly this thing!" Tal shrieked as the first shot hit, overloading a console on the far side of the bridge. Gritting his teeth, he pulled back hard on the control yoke. At his command, Icarus flipped over and increased to full speed, heading at full impulse towards Earth's closest neighbour. With an amazed look on their faces, Tal and Nyssa looked up at the top of the bridge windows and watched the two Kindjals pass by them. For a split second, Tal was certain he could see one of the Khanate pilots looking up at them...
and then they were gone, Icarus gaining ground as the Kindjals were forced to come to a stop and loop around in pursuit.
Nyssa gulped behind him. "Oh, they're not going to like that."
-----
Aishwarya stood alone in the dim detention block, staring down at the corpses at her feet. This was war, she reminded herself, feeling the burning of unshed tears in her eyes. If she hadn't fired and killed them, the Starfleeters would all be dead now. A life for a life.
Small comfort, she thought, wondering if the coldness in the pit of her stomach was normal for a cold-blooded murderer.
Against the wall, the Changeling moved, little more than a slight shifting of it's liquid form from one spot to another. Removing a weapon from the cache by the doors, she pointed it at the golden puddle.
And froze.
No, she told herself as she lowered the weapon. She wouldn't kill again. She would not become her brother.
Dropping the weapon to the floor, she turned and left the room. She would deal with the Changeling in her own way, if it came to that.
-----
Kordath stood before the large double doors, bat'leth in hand, the red emergency lights casting incarnadine shadows across his dark features. At his feet laid the corpses of two Jem'Hadar guards, their white blood still staining the tips of his blade. In the distance he could hear the rhythmic sounds of running guards. His presence had been discovered. The time for secrecy and subtlety was over.
Sheathing the bat'leth across his back, he pressed both palms to the doors and pushed, forcing the massive portals open with pure strength. His teeth gritted as malfunctioning hydraulics screamed in protest as they struggled to keep the threshold to the room sealed, and failed.
Kordath stepped into the darkened chamber, unsheathing the curved blade and holding it aloft before him. The Targ of his anger snarled in anticipation, sensing that it's release was near. Flickering lights illuminated the room from sconces on the walls, casting a dim yellow glow that contrasted with the red emergency lights in the corridor beyond. Cautiously, he sniffed at the air and bared his teeth. His prey was near.
A slow clapping emanated from the deep shadows of the room, echoing throughout the cavernous chamber, a counter-balance to the cries of the alarms. Slowly, laughter joined the applause, softly at first, but slowly gaining strength. Mocking and full of contempt. Kordath stood still, staring into the wavering darkness even as a dozen Jem'Hadar guards entered behind him, their pulse weapons and pikes aimed at his back. Kordath could hear every single weapon being charged, could smell the ionization in the air as they prepared to fire…
"Stop!"
The laughter had come to a shattering halt, the single word cutting through the air. Rakiin emerged from the shadows, the edges of his clothes indistinguishable from the inky darkness behind him. Behind Kordath, the Jem'Hadar lowered their weapons as the Khanate smiled and pulled two curved swords from the sheath strapped across his back. Holding his arms out to his sides, the swords at the ready, Rakiin braced himself for combat.
"The Son of Kamor is mine."
The room was deadly silent as Kordath shifted his feet and raised his own weapon.
-----
Herma'Taklan was, above all else, Jem'Hadar, a warrior, born and bred. From his first memories, he had served the Khanate, struggling to rise to the notice of one of the warlords and become a warrior great enough to serve as commander of his Lord's legions. He had fought, he had trained, he had killed and finally, he had risen. There had been no pride in him the day that Lord Rakiin had honoured him with the title of Commander of his Personal Guard. Pride in oneself was nothing. Pride became a hindrance, prevented clarity of vision.
But pain, pain drove you forward. Pain created focus. Pain had made him Commander.
Overconfidence had made him dead.
Without conscious thought, his hand reached up and began to rub at the wound that scarred his elegant features. Slowly at first, but with increasing pressure. Pain radiated from it, burning his mind. Blood began to seep from it again, ivory fluid dripping down his chin. White blood on white skin.
The only truth of life was that failure led to death, and death was pain. Pain drove you, made you fight for life. Circles.
Behind him, he could hear the whispers of movement as his Lord prepared to fight the Klingon. His warrior's mind heard every sound, the rustling of clothes as the opponents adjusted their positions, the soft hiss of leather on metal as the Klingon's foot shifted its position on the deck, the faint rub of his Lord's thumb on the hilt of one of his blades.
He heard it all, and stepped forward, leaving the Observation chamber.
None of the Jem'Hadar who had just entered the chamber moved a solitary muscle as he walked past, their slim bodies held at attention, their dark eyes fixed on their Lord and the Klingon intruder, but he felt their gaze on him all the same. They could see the scar, the bloody trail written across his face. They knew of his failure.
He was not worthy to lead them, not worthy to fight for his Lord.
He was dead.
His pain increased with each guard he passed, cutting into his soul as well as his face. He could feel their disdain for the living corpse.
As he left the chamber, he thought on the Humans. The deaths of the Humans were his life, his honour. His Lord had given him an order, and he would fulfill his Lord's wishes.
Pain radiated from his wound, and the world came into focus. The Humans had caused this pain, and this pain would drive him to them.
-----
Selene was lost in the shadowy corridors of the Gilgamesh, her stolen Jem'Hadar rifle held at the ready, her eyes scanning the labyrinthine passageway. Nothing seemed to be coming, but the Jem'Hadar were like wraiths, appearing from the shadows every time she thought that they had lost them. Satisfied that they were safe for the moment, and that they had lost their pursuers, she kicked on the access hatch behind her. "All clear."
Alex emerged first, his skin given a ghastly cast by the emergency lights. He still hadn't fully recovered from his fight with the Changeling, and he looked like he was about to break in half if she looked at him wrong, but he was fighting. This was the man she imagined that he must have been before his wife had died, willing to face anything as long as he could do it with a joke. Pushing himself free of the maintenance tube, he groaned, struggling to lift his own stolen rifle. "And I thought the Jefferies tubes on the Albion were small. I don't think my back is ever going to forgive me for this."
Selene chuckled under her breath, then frowned as she felt a twinge in her still-healing leg. "Had to say that, didn't you?"
"Sorry." Alex knelt down and reached into the hatch. "Come on, Jace."
"I can do it myself!" Jason pushed Alex out of the way, forcing himself out of the hatch and falling to the deck with a sharp exclamation of pain. Selene jumped at the loud sound and instinctively began searching the corridor for any sign that someone had heard. "Could you be a little louder, please? You didn't give away our position."
"Sorry." The word was spoken without any tone of apology whatsoever as Jason pushed himself to his feet and leaned against the bulkhead. "Maybe next time, I'll tell that genetically-engineered son of a bitch not to beat me to a pulp before we try to escape. Or, hey, better yet. How about I wait until he's unarmed, and then I'll shoot him."
The corridor became dead quiet, the repetitious alarms notwithstanding, as Selene froze. Lowering the rifle, she turned and faced the Starfleet Commander. His eye was still swollen shut, and bruises covered his face, but there was something in his good eye that she didn't like. It looked too much like disgust for her tastes. Stepping forward, she glared at him. "Listen to me. Right now, I don't care what your world was like. I don't care if you never had to shoot anybody. Honestly, I wish that I never had to. But sometimes, I do. You want to know what would have happened to your girlfriend back there if I hadn't shot her? You want to know what the Khanate does to traitors? Some of the stories vary. Last I heard, the current favourite is explosive decompression. Shoved out an airlock. Not a pleasant way to die." Jason was silent, and Alex was casting glances over his shoulder as she ploughed on. "That's the reality of this world, Commander. It's harsh and it's mean, and we do what we have to, even when we don't like it. I wish I could know what your home was like, what I was like there, because it sounds a whole lot better than here.
"But wishes... wishes don't bring the dead back to you. No matter how many times you ask."
As she said it, she noticed Alex look away, fixing his gaze on a point farther down the corridor, but pointedly away from her. That was when she saw the irony of her statement. To these two men, she was the dead come back to life.
Looking away from Madden, she stepped up next to Alex. "Where do we go from here?"
Alex swallowed, and she felt a surge of pity for him. In trying to make a point to Madden, she had just dragged Alex back into his own darkly personal Hell. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she smiled at him. "Hey. Where to, Miracle Boy?"
Alex let out a short bark of laughter and pointed his rifle down the corridor. "That way."
Selene shrugged her shoulders and grinned, leaving her anger at Madden behind her. "Then let's go."
-----
"Prophets!"
The curse was out of Tal's mouth before anything else, and suddenly Nyssa found herself being thrown from her chair and skidding across the bridge as Tal flung Icarus into a tight curve, narrowly avoiding the enormous wall of red rock that loomed in front of them. The ship was filled with a terrible screeching sound as the underbelly of the secondary hull scraped along the stone, setting Nyssa's teeth to grating. The fact that the sound was being carried through the deckplates, on which Nyssa was now lying, didn't help much. Getting to her feet, she took the time to strap herself into the chair this time. "Don't do that again."
"What? You wanna end up smeared across a cavern wall next time? No problem. I can do that."
Icarus was flying through one of the thousands of canyons that crisscrossed the surface of the red planet, flying at high speeds. Recklessly high speeds, in Nyssa's opinion. Her fingers had turned into talons, digging into the patched armrests of her chair as Tal sent the ship weaving between the kilometres high canyon walls, the two Kindjals still close behind.
A point that was brought back to the forefront of her mind as a phaser beam struck the cavern wall in front of them, creating a rockslide that bounded down towards them. "Tal!"
"I see it!" The Bajoran actually bent over his console, pushing the control yoke forward with his own body weight. Icarus dove, narrowly avoiding a collision. Spinning the ship into a tight barrel roll, Tal ducked another phaser blast.
The subspace radio crackled, filling the bridge with static before a voice sounded from the speakers. "Human vessel. Stand down."
Tal and Nyssa glanced at each other. "They're talking to us now?" Tal wondered. "I thought that standard Khanate procedure was shoot first, ask questions never."
"Guess wonders don't end." Nyssa flicked on the radio. "Hi, there. Um… How about no?" A phaser beam scorched the canyon wall, making Tal jump and, thus, making the ship spin again. "Okay, so you didn't like that answer, huh?"
"Weapons lock on your port nacelle. Stand down and live."
Icarus bucked, Tal yanking back hard on the controls and sending the cargo ship rising up and out of the canyon. Beneath them, the Kindjals broke into opposite directions and accelerated, now tracking Icarus across an open plain. Tal gulped. "Y'know, maybe Mars was a bad idea."
"No, the canyon was a bad idea. At least up here, they actually have to shoot us to kill us, rather than bringing a wall down on us."
As if in answer to Nyssa's statement, the lights on the bridge flickered and the controls were yanked out of Tal's hands. Outside, Nyssa could see the Khanate fighters taking up positions at either side of the ship as they nosed upwards and out of Mars' atmosphere. "Tal, what are you doing?"
The blond-haired Bajoran cursed, looking at the console as if it were a beloved pet that had just tried to bite him, an expression of annoyed disbelief on his face. "I'm not doing anything! That's the problem."
"Human vessel." Nyssa and Tal looked out the windows at the accompanying Kindjals as the dusky atmosphere darkened into the black of vacuum. "We have accessed your flight controls. Any attempt to regain control will result in your vessel's destruction."
Tal and Nyssa looked at each other as Icarus flew in formation with the enemy, headed back towards Earth. Tal pursed his lips and nodded. "Yep. We're doing a great job of helping the Skipper."
"Tal?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
-----
The two combatants stood in the middle of the Observation chamber, still as stone, each examining the other, searching for flaws.
Rakiin watched Kordath, saw the nicks and scrapes on the curved blade of the Klingon's bat'leth, saw the increase in grey hairs and the thin lines around his eyes. The Klingon was getting old, age reflected in every inch of his being. A disruptor and a mek'leth lay strapped to his side. In the old days, the Klingon would never have approached a disruptor. His precious honour would have forbade it. There was sweat beading in his hair, his breath coming a shorter intervals. Kordath was exerting himself.
Rakiin smiled and shifted his grip on his own swords. The Klingon was not merely getting old, he was old. This would be over quickly.
Kordath felt the Targ of his anger writhing, snapping at it's bonds, and before he even raised a weapon against Rakiin, he fought a war within himself. He saw Rakiin's thin smile, noted how the Khanate's grip changed, loosening ever so slightly on the twin swords. He recognized those blades. Based on a style known as the Katana, they were thin, but strong. Minimal handguards. He knew those swords.
He had given them to Rakiin himself.
"You appear well, Rakiin."
The Khanate Lord nodded lightly, his eyes never leaving Kordath's own. "And you appear old, Kordath. Older than I remember."
"Perhaps."
One of Rakiin's blades swept forward in a mocking salute, the other curving behind his back. "Nothing more to say, Kordath? No vows of vengeance?"
Kordath shifted his weight to his right foot, the leather boot whispering as it drifted across the deck plates. "What remains to be said? Have we not said it all before?"
Rakiin's smile grew wider. "Yes. I believe we have."
Rakiin rushed forward, his swords aiming fast strikes at Kordath's arm and side. Releasing the bat'leth with one hand, Kordath unsheathed the mek'leth, blocking one blow with the broadsword and the other with the long, curving dagger. For a long second they stood there, eyes locked on each other. Pushing upwards with the dagger, and downwards with his bat'leth, Kordath spun away from Rakiin, bringing his sword around left handed, aiming for the Khanate's chest.
Rakiin parried quickly, dancing back a step. Kordath continued to turn, the swords scraping along each others' length until they were both free. Within two heartbeats, both men were back where they had started.
Kordath attacked first this time, throwing his mek'leth at Rakiin, the sharp weapon buzz-sawing through the air. Rakiin tried to block with his left sword, but the mek'leth knocked the blade from the Khanate's hand. Kordath charged and Rakiin met him, both of them now reduced to a single blade each. Savagely, they danced around each other, Klingon martial artistry against Human. Blade against blade. Teacher against student. Impetuous youth against experienced age.
And youth was winning.
"I almost pity you, Kordath." Rakiin shook his head, "Five years ago, you may have actually won this battle."
"I have not lost yet."
"Not yet." Rakiin ducked beneath a savage swing, the sharp blade missing him by a hair's breadth. Pivoting on one foot, the Khanate shifted his sword into a backhanded grip and slashed upwards, catching Kordath across the chest.
Kordath howled as he fell back, blood dripping from the wound. His grip on the bat'leth weakened, as did his grip on his anger. The Targ snapped it's bonds, filling Kordath's mind with fury and sending him flying forwards, howling in anger and grief. Almost casually, Rakiin sidestepped the charge and struck Kordath in the base of the neck with his sword's hilt. Kordath skidded across the ground, dazed.
"Control. That was the first lesson you taught me. Control over one's actions, and control over one's self. Without control, Kordath, we are little more than rabid animals, don't you agree?" Rakiin stepped forward into Kordath's field of view, kicking the Klingon over onto his back. Black spots danced at the corners of Kordath's vision, the Khanate Lord looming over him, sword poised to strike. "And rabid animals, my teacher, are put to death. That was the first lesson you taught me."
"But it was not the last." And Kordath pulled his disruptor and flung it into the air seconds before it exploded, blinding everyone in the room as it erupted into a blaze of green fire. Rakiin screamed in painful surprise as he backed away, his free hand covering his eyes as Kordath swung the bat'leth around, aiming for Rakiin's sword.
He missed.
For the first time in long years, Kordath missed a clean target, his weapon swinging of it's own volition for a new target. Whether it was chance, or the Goddess of Destiny, the only surviving member of the Klingon Pantheon, guiding his hand, his bat'leth struck inches lower than he had planned...
And severed Rakiin's right hand.
The Khanate screamed in agony as Kordath rose to his feet and ran for the door, killing any Jem'Hadar foolish enough to stand in his way. His family's honour had not been satisfied here today, but it's appetite had been sated.
For now, at least.
-----
Plasma bolts spattered across the bulkhead as Alex, Selene and Jason leapt through the door into the forward Kindjal bay, Alex and Selene rolling on the deck and returning fire with their own stolen rifles. "Just the way it works!" Selene yelled over the sounds of gunfire, "Just when you're about to get away, fate's gotta bite you in the butt!"
Alex didn't bother responding as he scrambled to his feet, dodging the weapons fire as he bolted for the door controls. Slapping his hand to the panel, the door irised closed, cutting them off from the pursuing Jem'Hadar. Slumping against the wall, he slid to the ground. "That was a big bite."
They had been less than a hundred feet from their destination when the guards had found them, opening fire without a second's hesitation. It was sheer luck that they'd managed to make it inside.
Well, almost.
Jason had stumbled in the middle of their flight, catching a plasma blast to his shoulder, sending him spinning around. Alex had managed to catch him, but the burn was bad. Jason was fading in and out of consciousness now, barely able to hold it together for longer than a few moments.
Alex had only been this scared once before, and it had actually been with Jason at his side. Back at the Academy, they had been sent on a simple mission to repair an orbital sensor platform in orbit of Jupiter that had been damaged in a small meteor shower. Nothing too elaborate. Easy enough that a handful of cadets should have been able to manage it themselves. Jason, the Upperclassman, had been in command, while Alex had been little more than an observer, an engineering cadet who, if he had been lucky, might have been allowed to tighten a few bolts (metaphorically speaking). The mission had been simple enough, but, like Selene had just said, Just when you're about to get away, fate's gotta bite you in the butt.
It had been a disaster. The platform had taken more damage than anyone had thought, and it's structural integrity had breached, breaking the station apart around the cadets. Three cadets had died that day, failing to secure their EVA suits in time. It had been the first time that Jason had been forced to watch people under his command die, and it had nearly driven him mad.
The explosion had damaged their emergency transport beacons, leaving them stranded in orbit of Jupiter until a Search and Rescue team had been able to find them. Alex had stayed at Jason's side the entire time, hanging in space, watching the gas giant beneath them drift slowly closer. He had nearly been out of air and he had felt half frozen by the time they had been found, but he had never left Jason's side.
When they had been returned to the Academy, the Commandant had presented them with commendations, saying that they had faced the situation like true Starfleet Officers, and when Alex had looked at Jason, something had been missing in his friend's eyes.
Innocence.
And that had terrified him more than hanging powerless in space.
Now, once again, they were in a life or death situation with Jason impaired and incapable of saving himself. And again, as he had before, Alex refused to leave him behind.
"Come on," Alex grunted as he picked the semi-conscious Jason up off the floor, wincing under his weight. Behind them, Selene followed, her rifle never wavering from the door, which had begun to glow under the assault from the other side.
"Just go." Jason's voice was a pain-filled whisper, cracking even as he spoke. "I'm dead anyway... No point…"
"Shut up. I'm not leaving you behind, got it?" Alex winced as his own injuries flared with pain, "Just get that idea out of your head right now."
"Alex?"
Alex turned at Selene's voice, noticing for the first time that the Kindjal bay's main doors were open, giving them an incredible view of San Francisco's ruined skyline. Triangular fighter craft were parked side by side along the walls, each ready for the taking. That was the plan, anyway. Get on board one of these things, access it's computers, and leave. "Yeah?"
"We've got a problem."
Alex frowned. He really hated those words. "What?"
Selene looked up from one of the displays on the walls of the bay, frowning as she pointed at it. "The Kindjals are locked in place."
"What?" Alex's mind raced. It made sense. Lock the fighters into place when the ship lost power, that way they didn't skid all over the place when the deck tilted. "Well, there goes the plan."
Stepping up to the very edge of the deck, Alex and Jason looked out the bay doors, careful not to touch the emergency forcefield that separated them from a thousand foot drop. Selene stepped up next to him, and the three of them looked down. Selene cursed, "Great. Just great. What are we supposed to do now?"
"Nothing."
The three of them turned just in time to watch Herma'Taklan deshroud behind them, the Jem'Hadar's face bleeding from a deep gash that ran from temple to cheek. In his hands, he held a rifle of his own, aimed directly at Alex. Behind the wounded Jem'Hadar, the door began to melt as the guards on the other side made progress. They had almost breached the room.
"Hiya, Hermy," Jason's voice was thick. "How ya' doin'?" Alex glanced down at his friend as Jason started chuckling madly. He was going into shock. They had to get out of here. Now.
Herma'Taklan stepped forward and pressed a control on the wall of bay. Suddenly, the forcefield behind Alex snapped off, filling the room with howling wind. "What are you going to do, Herma'Taklan?" Alex was forced to shout to be heard over the noise. "Kill us?"
The Jem'Hadar's expression never changed, his eyes staying as stony as ever. "No. I'm not going to kill you, Carver." The rifle's aim changed, pointing directly at Selene. "I'm going to kill them."
And he fired.
-----
"Try it now."
"Nope. Nothing."
Tal cursed as he pushed himself out from under the pilot's console. Time was running out. They were descending into Earth's atmosphere already, and he could almost imagine that he could see the black stain of the Gilgamesh hovering over San Francisco. So far, he had tried everything that he could think of to break the Kindjals' control over Icarus, and he had absolutely nothing to show for it. Zip. Zero. Zilch. The only thing that he hadn't done was completely shut down the ship's power and reboot, because it was crazy to do something like that while entering atmo.
Wait a minute...
"Nyssa, strap in."
The Romulan medic looked up at him as he pushed her out of his seat and started flicking switches and pushing buttons. "Tal? What are you doing, Tal?"
"Nothing to worry about. Just... strap in." The atmospheric shields were glowing bright red, which meant that they were just about done with re-entry. Another couple of minutes…
"Tal, you know I don't like it when you tell me not to worry. What are you up to?"
"Nothing. Are you strapped in, yet?" He could barely see the two Kindjals flying in escort formation beside him, which, hopefully, meant that they could barely see him. Hopefully.
"Yes, I'm strapped in." Tal could just about hear Nyssa bracing herself. Probably a good idea. He thought. "Good. Good, so am I." The red flames burning across the shields was beginning to dim and flicker out. Tal took a deep breath and clenched his eyes closed, looking away as he placed his hand directly over a big red button on his console. The button that no pilot ever, ever wanted to press while in flight.
And he pressed it.
The lights throughout the ship went out, the engines died and Icarus dropped from the sky like a very large stone.
-----
It was like an epiphany.
Jason Madden didn't want to live.
No, scratch that. He didn't want to live here.
Selene's words ran through his mind. That's the reality of this world, Commander. It's harsh and it's mean, and we do what we have to, even when we don't like it. And he asked himself the question:
What's the point?
What's the point in surviving just for the sake of survival? Was that what he'd been doing since this entire thing had started? Surviving? He'd been ready to die a week ago on the Crichton, why shouldn't he be ready to die now? It wasn't enough just to survive. A person had to live. And he wouldn't, he couldn't, live here.
So when he saw Herma'Taklan aim his rifle for Selene, when he heard Herma'Taklan say I'm going to kill them, he didn't do what he did for Alex's sake, he didn't do it to save Selene, he didn't do it for any heroic reason whatsoever. He did it for himself. He did it because he had accepted the sheer, overwhelming futility of it all.
He pushed Selene and Alex aside and stepped in front of the shot.
Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. Not badly, anyway. As he spun off the edge of the deck and into the air, plummeting towards the city below, he heard Alex scream his name and he smiled as he felt himself die, his entire body tingling as it shut down.
But he knew death. He had felt it when he had fallen through the Guardian of Forever.
And this...
This wasn't it.
It was a transporter.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Happy anniversary! Today is exactly ONE YEAR since I started posting! Today, the entire cast is having a little party at the local pub. Even Kordath and Rakiin are getting along ('course, Rakiin's having a problem drinking with only one hand)