Many thanks to the following reviewers of chapters 14 and/or 15: Conan98002, whitem, Matri, calamite, Visigoth29527, FAH3, Yuri Sisteble, daywalkr82, campy, Molloy, spectre666, US.Steele, Ultimate Naco Topping, Louis Mielke, Nightwing 509, AtomicFire, IncrediRaider8, Darkcloud1, Ace Ian Combat, Ezbok58a, Supreme Admiral of the Web, momike, TAZER ZERO, surforst, kemiztri, Zaratan, RealityBreakGirl, MichaelCross, TexasDad, Dixon-San, jasminevr, mattb3671, Teachunsa, crashfourit, JPMod, GargoyleSama, Dresari371, Uru Baen, Acaykath, Hyperspace, CajunBear73, Classic Cowboy, Josh84, Yankee Bard, Leen1, Tarnished Blade, Canis Black, Kimberly Ann Possible, TransWarpDrive, Daeron Blackoak, momike, Emerald Dark Knight, continental-line, slyfer, Brother to Vorlons and Nikoagonistes.
Thanks to everyone else for reading!
Write a review, get a response. Seriously.
As ever, my gratitude to campy for his beta- and proof-reading.
I've posted Chapter 6 of The Darkness Within, the story I'm working on with the Global Writers' Association. Kim and Ron are back together … and they're bad. Very, very bad … And you can see what they look like in loving color; just follow the link from my author's profile to my devART page.
Two story recommendations for you this week: whitem has just started a KP/Star Trek Original Series cross-over called The Logical Monkey. Check it out. And GargoyleSama has a delightfully whack AU story called The Past Changed. You should check it out, too.
If you saw it on KP, it belongs to Disney. If you saw it on TNG, it belongs to Paramount.
This chapter is dedicated to Captainkodak1, who undergoes quadruple bypass surgery today. Please keep Cap in your thoughts and prayers.
I.
Ron and Kim both woke up with a start.
"I just had the weirdest dream," he said.
"You too?" Kim asked, snuggling up to him, signaling that she wanted to be held.
"Yeah, I, uh, well, I blew up the ship …" he said sheepishly, as he wrapped his arm around her.
"… And Shego and Data, who called himself Lore, like some cartoon villain, took over the galaxy …" she continued.
"… And these cyborg dudes …" he added, unable to repress a shudder.
"… they're called the Borg – and they assimilated everyone," she finished, almost in a whisper.
"So, we had the exact same dream?" Ron asked.
"Can't get much weirder than that," Kim replied.
With vivid images of an exploding starship in mind, Ron asserted, "KP, I am never touching anything ever again."
Kim looked at Ron and pouted.
"What?" he asked.
"Well, I hope you'll still touch some things …" she said coquettishly.
Ron grinned at Kim. "Ensign Possible, you are a very bad girl …"
"And you're going to do what about that?" she asked provocatively.
"Start touching things again, I think …" he replied, losing no time turning words into actions.
II.
Drakken was not a happy camper.
He had learned from his Cousin Eddie that Starfleet was now actively seeking the individuals responsible for the theft of the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer, and that meant he was going to have to move lairs, just to be safe. He had also learned that Galactic Justice had been called in. That could be bad insofar as it meant additional resources could be brought to the search, but it could also be good since Starfleet and GJ would probably stumble into some pointless turf battle, slowing things up. That at least gave him some time to decide where to go next.
Drakken was also unsure about the new addition to his evil family. He had always thought that he and Shego had something special. Their relationship wasn't romantic, but it was unique. Now that Lore was on the scene, the dynamic had changed. Drakken felt like Shego's father; it didn't help that the android had started calling him 'Dad' and 'Pops.'
At least his latest project was a source of satisfaction. Now that Drakken had stabilized the synthodrone matrix, he anticipated having an invincible army at his disposal. He was eager to schedule some field trials and was contemplating the best way to proceed when he heard the singing.
Whatever Shego wants, Shego gets …
He straightened up. Ross and Adler? he asked himself.
And little man, little Shego wants you …
Drakken turned to see Lore behind him, looking idly at some components on the villain's workbench.
"Sorry, Pops. Didn't mean to disturb you," the android said with what Drakken thought was impressive insincerity.
"Damn Yankees," the mad scientist said.
"Excuse me?" Lore replied, his curiosity piqued.
"You were singing "Whatever Lola Wants" from Damn Yankees! I love those old shows! And I love that song, especially the Mel Tormé version."
Drakken was shocked by the change of expression on the android's face. Disdain and ennui were replaced with wonder and surprise. "You like the Velvet Fog?"
"Like him? I worship him," Drakken said with conviction.
"Blue moon …" Lore began singing.
"…. You saw me standing alone …," Drakken picked up.
"… Without a dream in my heart … ," Lore continued.
"… Without a love of my own …," Drakken responded.
"… Blue moon. You know just what I was there for, you heard me saying a prayer for …" they both began to sing in unison.
When Shego came down to the lab, she found her new lover and her long-time employer belting out "Too Darn Hot" from the old Earth musical Kiss Me, Kate. She was torn. On the one hand, the two seemed to have found a common ground, which might allow them to work together effectively to solve the PDVI problem; Shego was convinced that it would be easier to fabricate, rather than steal, the rest of the unit, now that Starfleet was aware that someone was actively seeking it. On the other, she began to have fears of Karaoke Night coming to Drakken's World.
Shego hated karaoke.
III.
"Ow!" Ron exclaimed as his body slammed into the mat.
"C'mon, Chosen One. Get your head in the game!" his sparring partner ordered.
Ron groaned as he sat up and looked at Kim. The passionate, playful woman with whom he'd been sharing his heart and his bed had been replaced by a gi-clad martial arts fanatic who seemed determined to show him how many different ways he could be thrown to the ground.
"Do I even have a head?" he whined, flopping on his back again.
Kim stood before him, her hands on her hips, her hair pulled back in a pony tail. The captain had excused Kim from bridge duty so Ron could get in some last-minute practice before Gowron's arrival later that day. Picard would normally have assigned that job to Worf, but the captain suspected Kim, as Ron's 'consort', might be called upon to be part of the demonstration. Besides, he assumed, and rightly so, that Ron would give his all for Kim.
"Complaining much?" she asked, her eyebrow arched.
"Only when my best friend body slams me," he said, getting up.
"Best friend, huh? Have I been demoted from girlfriend?" she asked coyly.
Ron grinned, taking her change in tenor as an invitation. He approached her. She smiled, he raised his hands to cup her face and kiss her. She continued to smile. Then she grabbed his arm, spun him around and kicked his feet out from beneath him.
Ron looked up to see Kim standing over him. Much to his annoyance, she was grinning.
"You're going to pay for that, KP."
"So am not, Ron," she said confidently.
Ron surprised Kim – and himself – by reaching back, grabbing Kim's ankles and pulling her feet out from beneath her. She hit the mat with a thud.
Ron, who had been on his back, quickly rolled over and jumped on Kim, pinning her to the floor.
"So are," he said with pleasure. "I've got you right where I want you, KP. You have been beaten by the Ronman."
"So not the drama, Ron," she said as she tapped her forehead against his nose, then smiled smugly.
"What was that for?" Ron asked, confused.
"If we were in a real fight, I would have just slammed my forehead into the bridge of your nose. You'd be in a ferocious amount of pain."
Ron sighed. "So you're saying I really didn't win?"
"Sorry. But you did have some spankin' moves, Ron. Besides, I think you'll like the consolation prize," she said as she gave him a peck on the lips.
"Booyah! I'm all about consolation prizes!" he enthused.
"I'll bet you are," she responded. "But let's see if you can win the grand prize."
IV.
Bonnie looked at her reflection in the mirror. She liked what she saw: at 22 she was as sexy and beautiful as she'd ever been. She had no qualms about putting her appearance to work for her; she had studied diplomacy and knew that the truly great diplomats used all of the assets at their disposal.
But that morning she found herself feeling dissatisfied. Knowing that Kim and Ron were together bothered her. It wasn't that she wanted Stoppable; she always thought he had looked like a dork. Now he looked like an ugly dork. Yet if she was honest, she knew he was incredibly brave. She couldn't imagine having someone care for her as much as he cared for Kim. And it wasn't as if she wanted to be Kim. She remembered how the redhead seemed to wear the same pathetic outfit almost every day during their sophomore year in high school – and now here she was wearing a uniform. That made sense – and had the benefit of preventing Kim from committing any fashion faux pas. Yet Bonnie knew that beneath the clothes, Kim had what it took to be a success in Starfleet. And she now had a guy she loved who loved her in kind.
Bonnie looked at her reflection in the mirror. She knew she wanted something like that. And she suspected she wouldn't find that with Tom Carter.
V.
Montgomery Fiske looked up at the two Section 31 agents who stood before him.
Will Du handed the Englishman a data padd.
"The scans you requested are there," he said.
"And?" he asked phlegmatically, concealing his eagerness to know.
"There were highly unusual readings at the quantum level, sir."
"So, it's true …" Fiske said, a note of wonder creeping into his voice.
"Yes. Ron Stoppable would appear to be in possession of the Blade of Kahless."
"Fascinating," he said. "It shall be most interesting to see how Chancellor Gowron reacts to this news."
"Indeed, sir," Will replied. "His reaction could have profound implications for the security of the Federation."
"Indeed, it could," Fiske agreed. "Mr. Du, Ms. Tanaka, I must ask you not to report this discovery to your superiors just yet. I would prefer that we had a firmer grasp on how our Klingon friends react to this situation before anything was said to Starfleet, the Federation Council – or Mr. Stone."
"Yes, sir," the two agents said in unison. They had both been surprised to learn that the ambassador knew not only of Section 31, but of the identities of its personnel. That told them that Fiske was exceedingly well connected and not to be trifled with.
"Very well, you may go. Thank you for your assistance," he said, dismissing his visitors, not feeling a need to tell them that what he now wanted to know was whether Ron Stoppable was able to exercise any control over the legendary weapon.
VI.
"You seem troubled," Will Du said. "I would have assumed that someone who received notice of her promotion earlier in the day would be in a positive state of mind."
"I feel that I have betrayed a trust," Yori confessed.
"You were doing your duty," he replied with all the emotion of a Vulcan.
"I have acted without honor," she said flatly. She had searched Ron's quarters and scanned his belongings. She searched Kim's things, too.
"Lieutenant, we do not have the luxury of worrying about 'honor.' You know that compromises must be made if we are to protect Starfleet and the Federation, that it is our job to do the work that others will not do; surely, as a ninja, you can appreciate that."
"I do not see how Ron Stoppable could endanger the Federation," she said, recalling his goofy countenance. "He is but a cook."
"You surprise me with your naivete. He is no longer just a cook. He is in possession of the most potent and venerated artifact in Klingon society, a fact that I cannot imagine will be well received on Qo'noS. And, we do not know how Stoppable might make use of it. He could prove to be a truly formidable threat. What the ambassador asked us to do was prudent."
Yori looked at her colleague. Though she supposed he was right, she was not fully convinced.
VII.
"Sir, we are being hailed by Chancellor Gowron."
"I'll take it my ready room, Ensign," the captain said.
"Picard." the Klingon snarled in greeting.
"Chancellor Gowron. How nice to see you," the captain replied, unwilling to be goaded by his interlocutor.
"Where is the pretender?" the chancellor demanded.
"If you are referring to the holder of the Sword of Kahless, he is preparing to meet with you," Picard explained. "After the demonstration, I hope you will be able to stay for dinner."
"I will not be boarding your ship, Picard. You will send him to me," the Klingon said.
"I am sorry, Chancellor, but that will not be possible," Picard said firmly.
"What! Why?" the Klingon snapped.
"Do you wish for me to speak as captain of a Federation starship or as the Arbiter of Succession?" Picard asked.
"You can be as trying as a Romulan, Picard," Gowron answered.
"I will take that as both an insult and a compliment," the captain said. The two men looked at one another's images for a few moments before Picard continued, this time in a conciliatory tone. "Gowron, I do not think it would be prudent to send a human wielding the Sword of Kahless onto a Klingon vessel until this issue is resolved to your satisfaction. Surely you would agree that there are those who would attempt to manipulate this situation to their advantage – and your detriment."
Gowron grunted before he replied. Grudgingly, he agreed with Picard's logic. "I will see you aboard Enterprise as soon as we arrive at Khitomer."
VIII.
"You aren't really planning on wearing that," Kim said in disbelief as she entered Ron's quarters to see him in the uniform of a Klingon warrior.
"I am indeed," Ron replied with pride. "Worf said I needed to dress to impress. You gotta admit, I am da man!"
Kim snorted. "Ron: Klingon. Clothing. Can you say 'fashion disaster'?"
Ron pouted. "I think it looks pretty cool," he said defensively.
Kim rolled her eyes. "That's one way to describe it."
"Hmmph. Some best friend/consort you turned out to be," Ron muttered. He turned, looked at himself in the mirror, then sighed. Then he began to take off the uniform.
Kim could see from his reflection that she'd hurt her boyfriend's feelings. She came behind him and wrapped her arms around him. "Ron, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to seeing you this way. Fasten that buckle and let me take another look." She then stepped back and looked at him with fresh eyes. "Pick up the bat'leth, please and thank you."
Ron did as instructed.
Kim set aside eighteen years of preconceptions of how Ron Stoppable should look and found herself seeing him with different eyes. She recalled how she felt like she'd been hit by a photon torpedo the first time she realized she was looking at Ron in a non-platonic fashion. Now, she was having a similar reaction. She already knew Ron was brave; he'd proven that more than once. But now, she realized to her surprise, her goofy boyfriend was a warrior. She didn't know if it was the scars and the eye-patch or the blade in his hand. But something told her he had a right to wear that uniform.
She smiled.
"Now, what?" Ron asked testily, assuming Kim was going to make another cutting remark.
She stood before him, her hands on her hips. "You know, what, Ron?" she asked. "You actually look spankin'."
"Really?" he asked.
"So really," Kim said as she gave him a peck on the lips. "Now let's go," she added in a more no-nonsense tone as she took his hand and led him to the door. "You are so not going to be late for your meeting with the Chancellor."
IX.
Picard watched as Gowron and his party of disruptor-carrying, bat'leth-wielding Klingons materialized on the transporter pad. The room was feeling awfully small to the captain, who was accompanied by Nechayev and Fiske. Kim, who would normally have been with Picard in her new capacity as ADC, was with Ron and Worf in Cargo Bay Three, which had been emptied for the demonstration.
"Welcome aboard, Chancellor," the captain said in greeting.
"This had better be good, Picard," Gowron snapped as he came down from the platform.
"I believe you will find your visit to be a prudent investment of your time," the captain replied diplomatically. "I believe you know Admiral Nechayev …"
The compact blonde flashed the Klingon a steely glare which caused him to grunt in appreciation. He knew Nechayev was tough as nails and respected her for that. He secretly thought she'd make a good Klingon.
"… and allow me to introduce Ambassador Fiske."
Fiske dipped his head, then extended his hand to the visitor. "A great pleasure, Chancellor."
Gowron eyed the ambassador suspiciously. He didn't trust diplomats, regardless of whether they were human or Klingon. He grunted in response, then looked directly at his host. "We have wasted enough time, Picard. Take me to him."
"If you will follow me," the captain said as he led the party out of the transporter room, wearing a poker face that would have done Riker proud. Picard knew he couldn't betray any of his thoughts on what was about to unfold, particularly his concern about the impact the ancient bat'leth could have on Klingon politics and his hope that Ron Stoppable was up to the task at hand.
X.
"You can do this, Ron. I know you can," Kim said reassuringly, concerned about Ron's last-minute case of jitters. "Just keep your …"
"… head in the game. I know, KP," he said nervously. Ron wasn't worried so much about meeting the chancellor of the Klingon Empire as he was letting down Kim, the captain, and Worf. He kept trying to clear his mind the way Worf had taught him to, but he was finding it difficult. He only hoped that he'd be able to summon the Sword in Gowron's presence.
"Ron," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder, "you know why I think you can do this? Because you're my Potential Boy."
Ron began to relax, then chuckled; Kim had been calling him that since they were in tenth grade.
"Okay, KP," he said, rolling his neck and flexing his arms. "Potential Boy is in the house."
"Perhaps, since 'Potential Boy is in the house,' he would like to do some more exercises before Gowron arrives," Worf suggested.
"I don't think so," Ron replied. "I think I'd rather marinate until the Big Guy gets here."
"Marinate?" Worf asked. "You are planning to cook? But Gowron will be here shortly."
"Worf, Worf, Worf," Ron said. "Marinating. It's like chilling at warp speed."
Chilling at warp speed? Kim wondered, arching a questioning eyebrow as she looked at Ron, who was looking around the cargo bay.
Ron found a spot, sat down, stretched out his legs, put his arms behind his head, and closed his eye. "See? This is marinating. It's like the meditating you taught me about."
"Meditation is a discipline," Worf countered. "You are … lounging."
"I am not!" Ron protested. "What I'm doing is the fruit of years of practice, right KP?"
Kim was becoming mildly concerned that Ron was nows becoming too relaxed; he really was a master of marinating. She had seen him zone out and fall asleep in some of the most unlikely places during the many years they'd known each other. She was definitely worried about Worf, who was beginning to look like he was ready to have a heart attack. "Oh yes, definitely," she agreed before crossing her arms across her chest. "Now get up and stop playing around," she said in a voice that brooked no dissent.
"Geez, what's the good of being the Chosen One if you can't even marinate for a few?" Ron grumbled as he grabbed the bat'leth and stood up.
Kim put her hands on Ron's shoulders and looked him in the eye. Softly, she said, "Ron, please remember that not everyone here knows you like we do, okay?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"No prancing," Worf growled. "No chanting 'I am da man.'"
"What, you guys want me to be a stiff?"
"No," Worf said in a commanding tone. "We want you to be a Klingon."
Ron, looked at Worf, then Kim. "'Sha, don't worry," he said confidently. "I'm all about being a Klingon."
XI.
The delegation arrived just after Ron reassured his two companions.
Ron, Kim, and Worf stood in the center of the large, empty cargo bay. Picard led the group towards the waiting trio.
"Chancellor Gowron," the captain said, "allow me to introduce Mr. Ronald Stoppable, the wielder of the Blade of Kahless."
Gowron looked at Ron for a moment. A broad, mocking smile broke out across his face. Then he began to laugh. Ron stood his ground, Worf's eyes narrowed to slits, and Kim seethed.
"This, this … one-eyed boy … is the Chosen One?" the Klingon leader said, prompting laughter from his party.
Ron took deep breaths. This guy's no different from the bullies in D Hall, he thought. I'm not gonna let him get to me.
"And look who he has stand by his side!" Gowron taunted. "A discommended Klingon as his sword-bearer and a little girl as his consort."
Ron's eye flashed. It was one thing for someone to insult him; it was another matter if the target was one of his friends. And if it was Kim …
"Dude, how'd someone so ugly get to be leader of the Klingon Empire? You'd think with 160 billion Klingons to choose from they could have done better," Ron snapped.
Gowron's smile faded and was replaced by something hostile. "Be careful, boy. You do not know who you are speaking to."
"Back atcha, pal," Ron retorted.
Gowron allowed himself a grin, before he turned to Picard. "Kahless help him if he is as stupid as he is ugly. But Kahless help his enemies if he is as brave. Let us start."
Worf proceeded to one corner of the bay with the bat'leth, Ron walked to the other and a still tweaked Kim joined Picard and the others. To keep her mind off the insults she, Worf, and Ron had just been dealt she studied the members of the party. Picard's face was a mask; Kim, like every other officer on board, knew that meant the captain was anxious. Nechayev watched the scene with detachment; to her, Ron was just a pawn in a game of intergalactic political chess. Fiske was clearly engrossed in what was happening; that didn't surprise her, given his interest in Klingon history. Finally, she noted that the Klingons had arrayed themselves along the bulkhead and was surprised when she found Gowron by her side. She did not care for the way he looked at her; his smile was disturbing.
You can do this, Ron! she thought as she focused on her BFBF, wishing she were a telepath so she could send her thoughts to him. At least she could flash him a smile.
Ron appreciated Kim's gesture and nodded. He let his gaze linger on her, as if in looking at her he could actually draw strength from her, then focused his attention on Worf and the bat'leth. The Klingon set the blade down on the floor. Ron extended his arms, flexed his wrists, and opened his hands, ready to receive the weapon.
All eyes were on him.
XII.
Shego looked at Lore and Drakken with furrowed brow. "You mean to tell me you guys really can't make this thing?"
"Well, we could …" Lore answered with a disarming grin.
"… But we've talked about the supplies that would be needed," Drakken added. "Since the part already exists, it would be so much easier to outsource its fabrication …"
"You mean steal it," she interjected.
"'Steal' has such an anti-social connotation," Drakken noted huffily.
"Whatever," she said. "Ya know, Doc, it's not like you ever run these errands. Maybe this time you should go …"
"Shego! That would completely up-end the villain-sidekick relationship! You know that such things are simply not done," he said with finality. "We must each stick with our strengths: I plan galactic domination, you acquire the resources needed to implement that plan.
"Huh. I think you're too scared to go!" she taunted. "Some villain you are. Scaredy cat!"
"Shego, remember what I told you about hurting with our words."
Lore began laughing.
"What's so funny, Tin Man?" Shego snapped as she glared at him. Drakken joined in giving Lore the hairy eye.
"You two. You sound like an old married couple …"
Shego bristled, clearly finding the idea distasteful while Drakken was gob-smacked.
"Shego," Lore said, sounding reasonable, "to fabricate the other half of the PDVI, we'd have to 'acquire' a number of components. Either way, we'd be visiting secure installations. So why not just do some one-stop shopping? We know where to go, after all."
That's what bothered Shego. If Big Daddy's information, which she'd just received in exchange for the report she'd provided on the Sword of Kahless, was reliable, and she had no reason to think it was anything but, the PDVI was in the possession of the Vulcan Science Institute.
And it wasn't being stored at some remote location.
According to Big Daddy, the vortex inducer was located at the Institute's headquarters, which were situated in the heart of the Vulcan capital.
XIII.
Ron looked across the cargo bay at the bat'leth with his good eye. Taking deep breaths, he strained to calm himself. He really wished there weren't so many people present. He extended his arm and opened his hand, willing the weapon to him.
Nothing happened.
"C'mon, Magic Sword, c'mon," Ron muttered.
He flinched when he heard the snort. It was Gowron. "You waste my time with this cook, Picard!" Then, as if to infuriate Ron, the Klingon leader said to Kim, "I hope your mate performs better in bed, girl."
Ron didn't need to look at Kim to know she'd be both mortified and angry. The comment made him feel irate, igniting his desire to defend her honor. Suddenly, the Sword leapt off the deck and flew into his outstretched hand.
Ron turned to Gowron and glared at the Klingon. As if sensing Ron was going to snap out something harsh, Kim subtly shook her head. He could almost her say, "Ron, keep your head in the game!"
"Impressive," the Klingon leader said grudgingly, unaware of the unspoken dialogue between Kim and Ron. Turning to Picard, Gowron growled, "How do I know this is not some sort of trick? You could be using tractor beams to move the weapon."
Picard arched an eyebrow. "And what have we to gain by such a subterfuge?"
"I do not know, Picard. But you humans can be devious," he said, a cold smile spreading across his face. "There is, however, a way to prove that your cook is not a pretender …" he added.
None of the Federation representatives were prepared for what happened next. The Klingon officer who had been standing to the other side of Kim slammed her back against the bulkhead; as he was doing that he gracefully whisked out his bat'leth and brought it to her throat.
XIV.
"I still cannot believe I let you talk me into this," Shego groused.
"I kind of like it," Lore said.
"I look, I look … " she sputtered.
"Like a Vulcan cut your hair?" he suggested impishly.
"Arrgh! I look like Drakken cut my hair with a bowl! Do you know how long it took me to grow my hair that long?" Shego flinched every time she saw her reflection.
Lore ignored Shego's rantings. "For what it's worth, you could easily win the Miss Vulcan pageant."
Shego glared at Lore. "You're not funny."
"Oh, come on. Bunch of ice-cube cold Vulcan women competing in the swimsuit competition? It's a very funny image."
Shego continued to glare at her partner. "Shut up and let me do your ears …"
XV.
"Gowron! What is the meaning of this?" Picard demanded. "I must protest! Release Ensign Possible at once."
"Not until I am done with her," he said menacingly. "She is as much a part of this as he is. I did not tell her to be his mate."
Kim controlled her breathing. She could feel the cold steel of the weapon against her skin; the Klingon could slice off her head with one thrust. "It's no big, Captain," she said calmly before looking at Ron. "I'll be okay."
Gowron approached her and looked into her eyes. "Tell me, Consort, do you trust him with your life?"
Kim stared defiantly at the Klingon leader. "Yes," she replied.
He grinned at her, then looked at Ron, who had held his ground. "Your woman believes in you, Pretender. Would you fight for her?"
Kim, surprising Gowron, snorted. "He already has," she said.
The chancellor glowered at her, then turned to Ron. "What say you, human? Or does your female speak for you?" he asked, eliciting laughter from his aides.
"Yes," Ron said evenly, hiding his desire to run and hide. All of his fantasies about being an action hero were collapsing under the weight of harsh reality. Right now, being a cook seemed heroic enough. Except that Kim needed him to be something more. "I'll fight for her."
"Good," Gowron said with a glint in his eye before he raised his arm. In response to his signal, three armed Klingon warriors stepped out and surrounded Ron.
Kim's bravado faded. It was one thing for her to be brave when she was in danger, but it was another matter when he was at risk. "Ron, don't do this," she murmured.
Ron was lost, not sure what to do.
Gowron sneered, then withdrew his knife. He grabbed Kim;s jaw and brought the blade up to her face. "Time is wasting, Pretender," he warned as he drew it along her cheek, drawing blood and a startled gasp. "Prove yourself, or I will make sure she looks like you."
Ron, seeing the long crimson gash on Kim's cheek, was gripped by rage – and something else he couldn't quite explain. He glared at Gowron through narrowed eye, then hissed, "Dude, you are going down for that." He turned his attention to Kim, exchanged a glance with her, both giving and receiving strength, then focused on the three Klingons. "So, which one of you wants to get his butt kicked first?" he asked, surprised only that he believed the threatened action wasn't hyperbole. For reasons he couldn't explain, Ron Stoppable was convinced that he'd be able to take down every Klingon on the ship if need be.
None of his opponents volunteered for single combat; instead, they moved in together. Without thinking, Ron knew to drop down to the deck. On his back but still holding onto the Sword, he kicked out at the Klingon before him, knocking his assailant off balance and distracting the others. Ron quickly rolled out of the warrior's way and sprung to his feet. No longer surrounded, and now facing a line of three, he could focus on picking them off individually. He swung his bat'leth around and hooked blades with the warrior closest to him, pulling away the Klingon's weapon and tossing it to the side; he then flipped the Sword of Kahless around and brought it around in a swinging arc, slamming the blunt side of the weapon into the Klingon's head, knocking him down and out.
Ron now found himself facing the remaining pair of Klingons, who grinned at him cruelly. They began to advance on Ron; he knew he couldn't let them back him into a corner. He yelled and rushed the one on his left, his blade held high. The Klingon was surprised for just a moment, but that was all the time Ron needed. He quickly spun to his right and kicked the second Klingon in the gut, then, still pivoting, met the oncoming blade of the first of his opponents. Steel clashed with steel, the sound echoing throughout the spacious hold. Ron was already sweating profusely and his arm muscles were screaming in pain; his workouts with Worf and Kim had not prepared him for this kind of exertion. But he knew he had no alternative, not while Kim was being threatened. The Klingon was larger than Ron and, much to the latter's discomfort soon had Ron where he didn't want to be – pressed against a wall, his only defense the Sword which he was using in a seemingly futile attempt to push back the larger, stronger man.
Ron decided that the time to play dirty had arrived. He didn't know much about Klingon anatomy, but hoped that if, like human males, they had two eyes, two arms, two legs, they might also have vulnerable features in analogous locations. He brought his knee up sharply and learned that Klingons and humans did indeed have that piece of anatomy in common. His attacker's eyes rolled up into his skull as he staggered backwards. Ron then did what he'd done to the first of his opponents and used his blade handle to hit the Klingon's head.
Ron now faced just one Klingon. He could see that the man was looking at him with a bit more respect than had been the case when the fight began. Ron realized that wasn't necessarily a good thing. So much for being misunderestimated, he thought ruefully.
XVI.
Kim didn't care about her bloody cheek or the cold steel pressed against her skin. She was totally engrossed in the fight, amazed by what Ron was doing. What she was witnessing simply shouldn't have been possible. It wasn't so much a matter of whether Ron was courageous enough to do what he was doing. He had suppressed his fears often enough in the past, most recently when he had saved her life on the moon. But the skills he was demonstrating were a wholly different matter. Learning how to fight like a Klingon Warrior was something that took years of training; it wasn't the same as learning how to wear a poker face. Yet Ron, who had first picked up a bat'leth only days earlier, was fighting like a master. She was excited that he was winning; she had no doubt the third Klingon was about to go down. But she was also frightened, wondering what effect the Sword might be having on Ron.
XVII.
Ron cursed as the third Klingon pressed his attack. The warrior had already drawn blood, slicing the front of Ron's Klingon uniform, and drawing a thin line of blood from his sternum.
XVIII.
Montgomery Fiske, was wondering the same thing about Ron as Kim.
For more than thirty years he had been fascinated by the legend of the Sword of Kahless. Now he was seeing that everything he had heard was true. There were only two explanations for how this buffoon could be doing what he was doing: either he was a highly trained warrior who kept his abilities hidden from all around him, or he was being guided by the spirit of Kahless. Fiske had done his research on Ron Stoppable: the ambassador had not believed that Ron led a secret life and his contacts in Section 31 had confirmed that. Ron Stoppable was a chef and nothing more.
Fiske was now determined to possess the Sword of Kahless. With its power at his disposal, he would be able to fulfill a promise he had made long ago – and become Supreme Ruler of the Alpha Quadrant.
XIX.
"Okay, what gives, Golden Boy?" Shego asked as she and Lore settled into the cockpit of her green-and-black spacecraft.
"What do you mean?" the android asked.
"You're bouncing around like a kid in a candy shop. Why are you so excited?"
"Because I like to play dress up?" he asked, tapping the points of his faux ears.
"Try again," Shego said evenly, not wanting to be reminded that she too was now disguised as a Vulcan. She was still tweaked about her hair, but had at least calmed down. Earlier she had been in a towering rage.
"You think the Vulcans ever got around to telling the authorities on Earth that they actually had the vortex inducer?"
Shego thought about that for a moment. Vulcans and humans, as odd a couple as there was in the galaxy, had become each other's most trusted allies. Yet she recalled the early days of the relationship, of the suspicion and mistrust, of the secrets each kept. The PDVI would have aroused every Vulcan fear about how dangerous humans could be; and if the Vulcans had acted on that fear, it would have stirred latent human resentments about Vulcan condescension. If she were the Vulcans she wouldn't want word of the PDVI to get out after all this time.
"You're going to blackmail them?" she asked.
Lore grinned. "I might. You have to admit -- it would be fun to make 'em sweat."
XX.
A gasping, panting Ron stood over the prostrate forms of his three unconscious opponents, unable to believe that he was responsible for their condition.
"Well done," Gowron said, a grotesque smile on his face. "It seems that you are the Chosen One," He sheathed his knife and signaled his aide to lower his bat'leth. "Qapla'!"
The other Klingons, Worf included, joined Gowron in saluting Ron.
As this was happening, Nechayev, who had retrieved a first aid kit, tended to Kim's wound. The admiral's revulsion over what she believed to be the barbarity of Klingons had overwhelmed any annoyance she had earlier felt towards Kim. In fact, the young officer had impressed her again by showing just how gutsy and calm she could be under fire.
Ron's response to the Klingons was to ignore them. He dropped the Sword, stepped over one of the unconscious warriors and trotted over to Kim. Nechayev, much to the surprise of all who knew her, stepped aside, allowing Kim to embrace Ron. At that moment, neither cared about diplomatic protocol or Starfleet SOP.
"How you doing, KP?" he whispered gently, as he reached up and caressed her good cheek; he knew he shouldn't touch the newly treated wound, or he would have stroked that side instead. "I freaked out inside when he …"
"It's so not the drama," she replied softly, cutting him off. "You were incredible," she added, before kissing him on his scarred cheek, "You really are my Warrior Chef. Though that doesn't mean you can forget to get that cut of yours checked out."
"Why don't we make it a date and visit Sickbay together?" Ron asked.
"You're on," she agreed.
"Ha! He is a true warrior!" Gowron exclaimed as he clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Victorious in combat, he celebrates with his mate!"
Ron's head jerked up. He pulled away from Kim, and with all of the grace of a cook with less than one week's combat training, spun around and delivered a sloppy, but well aimed, roundhouse right at the Klingon leader's jaw.
"Ron!" Kim exclaimed.
"Mr. Stoppable!" the captain barked at the same time.
He ignored them both and went after the staggering Klingon, jumping him and pushing him to the deck, ignoring he disruptors that were now being pointed at him. He extended his left hand, his palm open, and the Sword flew into his grasp. He then held the blade against the Klingon leader's neck.
Ron stared into Gowron's large, bug eyes. "Do not ever – and I mean ever – touch her again or I'll kill you."
Gowron returned Ron's gaze, smiled and began to laugh.
"You don't believe me?" Ron asked. "Note serious face."
Gowron continued to laugh and Ron tensed up.
"Ron, get off him. Now," Kim said, kneeling down beside him, worried that her boyfriend was about to start an interstellar war.
"You are not only the Chosen One," Gowron finally said, "But inside that scrawny human body you are a Klingon! Tonight, we will celebrate. You and your consort will dine aboard my ship and we will sing the praises of the House of Stoppable!"
Ron, feeling totally confused, responded to the gentle pressure of Kim's hand on his shoulder and got up. He looked back at Gowron, the Klingons, the Federation and Starfleet personnel and shook his head. He looked to Kim, who came to his side and glanced at Picard, who nodded at her; she then took his hand, and they made for the exit. They left the cargo bay and headed to Sickbay.
They walked down the corridor in silence. Finally, after they had boarded the turbolift, Ron spoke.
"Sorry, KP," he said.
"Why are you sorry?" she asked.
"I lost it back there. I promised you, the captain, and the admiral that I wouldn't embarrass anyone, and then I go and beat down the leader of the Klingon Empire," he said, before stopping. Looking at his feet, he mumbled. "And I went all caveman on you."
Kim smiled affectionately at Ron. She had been concerned when Ron took down Gowron. And she was not usually one for being treated as a damsel in distress. Yet Ron recognized what he'd done. Gowron so deserved that, and having a guy who wants to stand up for me isn't the worst thing in the galaxy, she thought.
"Stop," she ordered the turbolift as she took his hands. "Ron, look at me."
Reluctantly, he complied.
"You did lose it in there. And you know I'm not some delicate little missy," she said, much to his chagrin. "But I think it was pretty obvious that Gowron respected you for what you did. And I think it's ferociously sweet that you want to protect me. It's good to know you always have my back."
"Really?" he asked.
"Yes, really," she said releasing his hands and embracing him.
"Ya know, Kim. We seem to have some good talks in these lifts."
"Yes, we do. And even better hugs."
"Well, I'm all about better hugs …"
"And that's one of the reasons why you're my Chosen One, Ron."
XXI.
Kim and Ron parted ways after leaving Sickbay, Kim to take her post on the bridge, Ron to check on his galley.
Ron wondered what the reaction of Kim's fellow officers would be to her scar. Dr. Crusher had been impressed with Admiral Nechayev's use of the emergency medical kit but said that Gowron's handiwork would require a dermoregenerative procedure that would require Kim to spend 24 hours in Sickbay. Kim had no interest in missing the dinner with Gowron and she and Ron agreed that the scar would probably give her more standing with what Ron called "Gowron and his peeps."
He thought of Kim's cheek. Although he hated that Kim was hurt, he thought the scar made her look more dangerous and thus even sexier, if that was even possible. He shook his head, smiling at his good fortune in being Kim's boyfriend, admitting he would find Kim wearing a paper bag over her head sexy.
"Excuse me."
Ron, turned, roused from his reverie by the sound of Worf's voice. He was stunned to see that the big, burly Klingon had morphed into a short, burly … pink freaky thing, and all in the space of an hour. "Worf?" Ron asked in amazement. "What happened to you?"
"I believe there is some confusion," Ron's visitor said, approaching him with an extended paw. "My name is Rufus."
"My bad. You sound exactly like Mr. Worf," Ron replied before shaking Rufus' paw and introducing himself. "I'm Ron. Ron Stoppable. Nice to meet you, dude. So, what brings you to Casa de la Maison Stoppable House?"
The naked mole rat looked quizzically at Ron before speaking. "I do not mean to intrude, but I was hoping I might ask a favor of you."
"Sure," Ron said, puzzled.
"Would I be able to reserve a time to bake cookies?" Rufus asked.
A huge grin broke out on Ron's ravaged face. "You don't like having them come out of a wall?"
Rufus crinkled his nose. "I will concede that the replicator is an impressive and invaluable piece of technology. However, there is no substitute for a fresh-from-the-oven Toll House cookie."
"I'm with you there, man. The replicator's okay, but there are some things it just can't do right," he said with a shake of the head. "Do not even get me started on replicators and cheese …"
Rufus' eyes opened wide as he sensed the presence of a kindred spirit. "You are a cheese aficionado?"
"Aficionado? I am cheese's number one fan," Ron said proudly. "I was digging cheese long before I ever got into cooking. I still remember my first dollop of cheese at Bueno Nacho …"
"Bueno Nacho," The mole rat said reverently. "The Promised Land …"
"Yes! Exactly!" Ron enthused. "KP doesn't get it; she thinks that because I'm a chef I should have outgrown BN. But there is nothing like a double order of grande sized chimeritos with extra cheese. Oh, for a burrito with Five Alarm Diablo sauce," Ron said wistfully.
"Perhaps I can be of help," Rufus said eagerly.
"Huh?"
"I have brought a supply of Diablo sauce with me. If you would be willing to make burritos, I would be honored to share my sauce with you."
Ron's grin grew even wider. "Rufus, buddy, you got a deal!"
XXII.
"Oh, come on. Cheer up, Shego! This is like a family outing."
"Whatever," she said indifferently. She was still tweaked about having to cut her hair for this little adventure. And as if wasn't bad enough that she and Lore were soon to attempt to break into a facility in the center of the Vulcan capital, they were accompanied by two of Drakken's synthodrones. Dr. D suggested that this would be perfect opportunity to test his new creations; Lore readily agreed once he found that the synthodrones could take on the appearance of any bipedal humanoid species. They were an engineering marvel – yet while they looked and sounded real, they were still synthetic, and that gave Shego the willies. At least they're not clones, she thought.
"Be cheerful, Shego. You need to set a good example for Stan and Ollie, you know."
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
"What, bantering with you?"
"No, the prospect of this mission."
"Well, why not? It's not everyday that I get to look forward to laying a heap of freak on the Federation," he said with a combination of glee and malice that even Shego found a tad disturbing. She wondered if it was possible for an android to be insane.
XXIII.
Lieutenant Commander Edward Lipsky, Starfleet Corps of Engineers, had just dropped down onto the couch in the sitting area of his quarters at Starbase 52 and cranked up the Rigelian heavy metal when the door chimed. He decided to ignore the intrusive sound; he had had a long day and was now off duty and really didn't want to be bothered. Unfortunately for Ed, his unexpected visitors were persistent. The chime kept ringing, and, despite his best efforts to drown out the sound by turning up the volume of his music, he was unable to avoid it, thanks to the modulation sequence that allowed the doorbell to identify a frequency that could be heard by the room's occupant, regardless of what other sounds or noise might be present.
"Come in," he yelled, not bothering to tell the computer to mute the music (he was listening to his favorite album, Warped, by the Dead Sareks). As the door slid open, Ed rose to greet his unwanted guests. He was surprised to see them pointing phasers at him.
He was even more surprised when one of them shot him.
XXIV.
"My … sources … have provided me with a valuable lead in the case; I will need a shuttle so I may proceed to Drakken's World to continue the investigation," Will said to Captain Picard.
"Will you require the assistance of Ensign Possible?" Picard asked, still resenting the way the case had been taken away from his officer.
"That will not be necessary, sir, though I could use a pilot. I believe she would be able to adequately discharge that function, allowing me to continue my analysis while en-route," he replied, ignoring just how competent a pilot Kim had proven herself to be.
"Mr. Du, I am not going to have my helmsman serve as your chauffeur," he said acidly. "I will, however, find an officer to accompany you."
"Thank you, sir. I would be most appreciative. I plan to depart within the hour."
"Very well, Lieutenant. Dismissed."
Picard grimaced as he watched Du leave his ready room. He pressed his comm badge and asked Riker to join him. Moments later the doors slid open and Enterprise's first officer entered.
"Have you spent any time talking with Lieutenant Du?" the captain asked.
"Can't say I have," Riker replied as he took a seat.
"I think he may be the most insufferable junior officer I have ever met," Picard offered, before recounting his conversation.
Riker shook his head; Du sounds like a piece of work, he mused, then smiled. "I think I may have just the right officer to send with him," Riker said, "Supremely confident, quite able …" and looking to make up some lost ground.
XXV.
Tom Carter checked his tricorder as he waited outside the shuttle. Riker had called him just forty-five minutes ago and offered him the chance to participate in an important away mission. He'd been puzzled when the first officer warned him that his most difficult task would be to make sure that his partner's ego was kept in check. It all sounded odd, but he didn't care. He welcomed the chance to get off the ship, which now carried two ex-girlfriends.
He still couldn't believe that Bonnie had dumped him. She'd been very pleasant about the matter, using all of the tried and true explanations: difficulty of long-distance relationships, better to just be friends, blah blah blah. As he recalled the conversation, he began to get angry. He blamed this latest development on Kim. He was convinced she had turned Bonnie against him, just as she had turned Riker against him, too. But at least Riker saw through that, he thought, Otherwise, I wouldn't have been assigned to this mission.
XXVI.
"Worf, you gotta come," Ron almost whined, stunned by the Klingon's polite, yet firm, refusal to join his party on Gowron's ship that evening.
"I cannot." He reluctantly explained his discommendation.
"That is so ferociously unfair," Kim said.
Ron pursed his lip, then brightened. "Heyyy, I've got an idea. You can be part of my House. Then you'd be Chauncey."
"Chauncey," the Klingon said, betraying confusion and skepticism.
"He's saying that you'd be in good standing again," Kim explained.
"I cannot allow you to do that," Worf said. "You would bring dishonor onto your name."
"'Sha," Ron said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Having you as one of my posse would be an honor. You've taught me everything I know about being Klingon."
"No, it is not possible," Worf stated.
"Dude, you forget who you're talking to," Ron said, throwing his arm around Worf's shoulder.
"Hmm. You are the Chosen One," he conceded.
"I am what I is," Ron said cheerily.
"Then I thank you. You honor me with your confidence," Worf said.
XXVII.
Kim looked at herself in the full-length mirror. "So what do you think?" she asked, turning to Ron.
"Hot. You are definitely hot, KP," Ron said with a lop-sided grin.
"I thought I was supposed to look dangerous," she retorted.
"Oh, you look dangerous, too. I just have other priorities," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Ron …" she said sternly, knowing that even if they were wearing odd alien outfits, she and Ron were about to participate in a major diplomatic event.
He held up his hands in a sign of surrender. "KP, trust me, you look badical. It's much better than the dress."
Kim was wearing the uniform of a Klingon warrior. Gowron had sent her a Klingon dress, which Kim had reluctantly braced herself to wear and had even donned, until Ron objected, winning himself a year's supply of brownie points from his girlfriend. "No way you're wearing that," he had said. "'Consort' in Rondo-ese means 'partner.' You're a warrior, not a housewife …"
Kim's expression softened. "Thanks. We should get someone to take a holopic of us," she said, now running her fingers along the edge of the sash he was wearing over his uniform, along with a long cloak; Worf had explained he had the right to wear the latter as the head of a Klingon House.
"A fine idea, Kim," Ron said, wrapping his arms around Kim. "It'll be just like class picture day!"
That got him a scowl instead of the kiss he'd been hoping for. "You so don't want to go there, Ron," she warned.
"Aw, c'mon," he said, "You looked so cute in that frock thingie your Nana made for you our junior year …"
Kim glared at her boyfriend through narrowed eyes. "So not funny."
Ron was now rapidly spending down the store of brownie points he didn't even know he had. His grin then turned into something softer, something appreciative. "You know you did look cute in that dress. Then again, you looked cute in anything back then. Still do."
Kim was about to snap when she noticed the expression on Ron's face. "You really mean that, don't you?"
"Yep. Didn't matter if I was crushing on you or not, I knew you were beautiful, KP. Always were, always will be," he replied, reaching up to play with her ponytail.
"Even with a scar?" Kim, even though she felt she made the right decision about postponing the treatment, still felt self-conscious. She hated knowing she could be vain about her looks, but there it was.
Ron leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Especially with a scar. Makes you look dangerous," he said. Then after a pause, he added. "And hot!"
Kim rolled her eyes, gave Ron a wry smile, then brought her lips to his and whispered, "I'll show you hot, Captain Romance …"
TBC …
A/N: I am in the final weeks of my master's program, with a thesis and three major papers due by the middle of May. While I plan to keep writing this and other KP fics (the rest of KP:TNG is already outlined, I've got a one shot ready for posting next week and another story in progress), my free time over the next month will be limited. So, though I hope to update TNG in two weeks, it may well be three before you see the next installment.