My thanks to calamite, conan98002, Louis Mielke, Matri, whitem, GargoyleSama, MichaelCross, Molloy, Commander Argus, Classic Cowboy, campy, spectre666, daywalkr82, US.Steele, Yuri Sisteble, mattb3671, JPMod, JAM2.0, Ultimate Naco Topping, Visigoth29527, Mattk, AtomicFire, Supreme Admiral of the Web, Uru Baen, suforst, momike, IncrediRaider8, 3VAD127, Ezbok58a, Zaratan, Emerald Dark Knight, grumpirah, Ace Ian Combat, TexasDad, The Halfa Wannabe, TransWarpDrive, and Brother to Vorlons for reviewing and to all of you for reading.
With this chapter, KP:TNG crosses the 100,000 word mark. And to think when I originally conceived this it was going to be a five-chapter, 30,000-word lark. Go figure.
Thanks to campy, as always, for his help. He rocks, he rolls, he is da man.
Write a review, get a response.
If you saw it on KP, it belongs to Disney; if you saw it on TNG, it belongs to Paramount.
I.
Thanks to the wonders of holodeck technology, Kim was finding it hard to believe she was actually on a Klingon battle cruiser in orbit about Khitomer and not in a centuries-old hall on Qo'noS, complete with hammerbeam ceiling and wall-mounted wrought-iron braziers. She was seated at a long trestle table with Ron to her right. Or, more accurately, she was to Ron's left, for he was the guest of honor. To Ron's right was Gowron, and arrayed along the table to either side were Picard, Nechayev, Fiske, and some Klingon generals. There were two other tables branching off from the head, forming a "U". Seated at those other tables were a mix of male and female Klingon warriors – and Worf and Bonnie.
Kim was proud of Ron. He'd done a great job demonstrating his command of the Sword of Kahless to the assembled Klingons, convincing them of, if not pleasing them with, his bona fides as the Chosen One. Now he was holding his own in conversation, downing his fill of bloodwine and, most impressive to his hosts, scarfing down his gagh.
Kim did her part too, drinking her wine and eating her Klingon fare like the good, culturally sensitive Starfleet officer she was. Kim was not one for alcoholic beverages, but was willing to humor her hosts, especially since Dr. Crusher had given her some medication that was designed to mitigate the drink's effects. Kim had even had one pleasant surprise: she had initially dreaded tasting gagh, but was pleased to discover the Klingon delicacy tasted like hotdogs with marshmallows. She thought the consistency was gorchy, but the flavor was really quite nice.
She smiled at Ron, who was waving his hands, talking animatedly, then surveyed the room, settling her gaze on her onetime classmate and high school nemesis.
Her erstwhile rival had been unable to resist having some fun at Kim's expense when they rendezvoused at the Transporter Room. Klingon garb was so not Kim's style, though she had to admit to being both amused and, well, aroused by Ron's obvious attraction to her in the alien uniform. Then again, she really couldn't quibble, since she'd come to like him, or, to be honest, come to find him oh so hot, in his warrior's clothing. Yet it wasn't Bonnie's barbs that Kim remembered; as Bonnie needled her, almost as if she was doing so to maintain appearances, Kim could not help but notice the junior diplomat's look of concern as she eyed the scar. That she'd engaged Kim and Ron in idle banter before they beamed over was even more disorienting. Now, as if Bonnie had decided her role in life was no longer to vex Kim Possible, but surprise her, the one-time cheerleader was deep in conversation with Worf, and from their body language, Kim suspected they were talking about something other than diplomatic protocols.
Kim wondered how much of Worf and Bonnie's chattiness could be ascribed to the bloodwine. She had been plied with enough of the stuff that it had begun to overwhelm the treatment provided by Dr. Crusher, and was convinced that all of the Starfleet personnel were on their way to becoming thoroughly drunk. Kim suspected the same was true of the Klingons.
She was turning her attention back to her food when she noticed the female warrior standing before her. The woman's hands were on her hips, and she stared at Kim defiantly.
"You!" the Klingon growled.
"Yes?" Kim asked, wondering what was going on.
"You think you are worthy to be the consort of the Chosen One," the Klingon sneered. "Yet you are nothing but a child. The Chosen One needs a woman, one who can make him feel like a man."
"Come again?" Kim asked, hostility and incredulity mixing in her voice.
"You heard me!" the Klingon female snarled. "I believe there is a word for you in your language, but it would apply to one more mature; you are but a … pup."
Kim stared at the woman in disbelief. She knew what she'd just been called, and so didn't like it. Before she could say anything the Klingon female withdrew a blade from her tunic, which surprised Kim since, other than the Sword of Kahless, this was supposed to be a weapons-free event, and stabbed it into the wooden surface of the table.
The hall fell silent.
"I challenge you for the right to be consort!"
"You have so got to be kidding." Kim wasn't sure what she was supposed to say or do, but she'd seen enough of Klingons to know that being cowed was never a good idea.
"I do not speak idly, child. You will fight or you forfeit your right to be the Chosen One's mate."
II.
Ooo-kay, Ron thought. This is definitely awk-weird.
Ron had watched as the drama unfolded before him. He had no interest in seeing a fight unfold.
"Uh, look, I'm flattered and all," he said rubbing the back of his neck, "but …"
"Quiet!" the female Klingon roared.
Ron blinked his eyes in surprise, then looked back and forth between Kim and Gowron. "Either of you want to tell me what is going on?"
Gowron grinned. "Grilka has challenged your female for the right to be your mate —"
"Yeah, I kind of figured that part out, dude. You know, the knife in the table is a dead giveaway."
Gowron laughed. "The Chosen One is also a jester. You are a man of many talents," he said as he slapped Ron on the back. "The Challenge is an ancient rite. By Klingon tradition, you have no say."
"Excuse me?" Kim interjected.
"You heard me, human," Gowron said evenly. "This is now between you and Grilka." The chancellor then stood and announced to the gathering, "The females shall fight!" Then, looking at his Federation guests, he added, "Unless there are … objections."
Much to Ron's surprise, Picard, Nechayev, and Fiske all sat mutely. Kim already guessed that something involving the Prime Directive or her and Ron's status in Klingon politics accounted for the silence.
"Uh, yeah, I think I'm gonna object here," Ron said.
"I told you, you have no say in this matter," Gowron replied.
"Sorry, dude. I want KP," Ron answered defiantly.
"Do you also want an interstellar incident?" the Klingon asked hostilely.
Kim was not keen on fighting a Klingon warrior, especially when she was beginning to feel the effects of the evening's beverages. But she was a Starfleet officer, and couldn't let this situation impair relations between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. Besides, she was confident that, while she'd have to work harder than usual, she could take the woman. She reached out and squeezed her boyfriend's arm. "I can handle this, Ron."
"You sure, Kim?" he asked, worried about her. Even though he knew she could fight with the best of them, that Worf thought her one of the most skilled martial artists in Starfleet, that she was incredibly brave, he was still concerned.
"So sure," she said serenely before turning her gaze to Grilka.
III.
"So, like, what's going on?" Bonnie asked. "I mean, Kim's Starfleet. Shouldn't someone be intervening?"
"It is not that simple," Worf explained. "I believe Gowron is taking advantage of the fact that the moment Kim and Ron came aboard this ship, they set aside their identities as Federation citizens. They are dressed as they are for a reason: the clothing they are wearing is not simply for show; it indicates that they have roles to play in Klingon society."
"Well, that's all well and fine. But this just seems ridiculous. Someone should just beam them back to Enterprise."
"That would be a grave insult to the entire Klingon Empire, a breach of diplomatic protocol and, as Gowron has noted, would cause a diplomatic incident. Besides," Worf added, "Kim would lose honor if she fled to avoid the fight. Do you really think her capable of that?"
Bonnie recalled all the crazy things Kim had done during high school, especially her mountain rescue work for the Martian Red Cross. If there was danger, Kim was likely to be there. Bonnie had grudgingly conceded a long time ago that Kim truly wanted to help people, regardless of any personal risk that might entail. Yet she wondered at times if Kim was also addicted to adrenaline rushes. She looked at Worf. "No, I don't think K could run even if she wanted to," she answered. Then sounding peeved, Bonnie crossed her arms and asked. "So, like, why didn't anyone say anything about this before they came over?"
Worf returned her gaze, unable to contain his surprise. "Think. If they had known, do you think Captain Picard would have let them come aboard? I suspect Gowron knew this would happen. He is not only testing Ron, he is testing Kim. And from his position, he cannot lose. Kim will either prove herself worthy of her place in Klingon society – or a Klingon will stand by Ron's side."
Bonnie looked at Worf, then shook her head. And people say Romulans are sneaky, she thought.
IV.
Kim rose and confidently walked around the table to face her opponent.
"I will make your defeat swift, pup," the Klingon snapped.
Kim growled. "So not going to happen."
Gowron surveyed the room, then spoke. "The rules of the Challenge are simple. The combatants may use any weapon within this room – and anything may be used as a weapon. The victor will officially be declared Consort to the Chosen One, Mistress of the House of Stoppable, and will enjoy all the rights and honors due to her as his mate under Klingon law and custom."
This is so the drama. I win and the Klingons think I'm Ron's … wife, Kim said to herself. She already knew that she and Ron were in it for the long haul; otherwise things they had already done and shared would not have happened. Yet they had only been officially dating for less than two weeks. Being more or less wed, even if it was under another species' laws, which, in this instance wouldn't have any standing in the Federation of which she was a citizen, was overwhelming. Mitigating these feelings was Kim's sure knowledge that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Ron.
Her reverie was broken by the sound of Ron's voice.
"Uh, Gowron," he asked. "Just in case the admiral doesn't know how this challenge thingie works …"
Nechayev directed an icy glare at Ron while Picard forced himself to keep a straight face.
"… how does KP win?"
Gowron looked at Kim with a feral smile. "She kills Grilka."
"And, uh, what if she doesn't?" he asked, trying not to sound nervous, as he feared he already knew the answer.
"Then she will be killed by Grilka," the Klingon leader said, still looking at Kim, watching for any signs of fear or nervousness, but pleased to see she was now staring back at him, showing only brash confidence. "What say you, human?"
Kim looked at Gowron, then at her opponent, then at Ron, to whom she said something that made sense to nobody else in the room. "Seven Layers of Heaven, please and thank you." Turning back to Grilka, Kim snarled. "Bring it …"
V.
The fog that had shrouded the city had burned off by mid-morning, leaving a truly glorious spring day behind, the kind on which Ron would wander up to Telegraph Hill where he'd go to the top of Coit Tower to enjoy the view or find his way down to China Beach and the outdoor museum where he could imagine he was playing baseball or spend the better part of the day riding up and down California Street on one of the ancient cable cars. Much to Kim's bemusement, he'd fallen in love with San Francisco, so much that he'd pretty much abandoned his beloved VR games so he could spend time exploring the city. When a beautiful day like this fell on a weekend, he'd persuade Kim to join him; if it fell on a weekday, he'd consider skipping classes. But this day, instead of wandering the city, he was doing something different: he was sitting in the middle of the main quad at the Academy, fidgeting.
He was nervous. He wished he knew how Kim was doing on her exam. He knew how anxious she had been, because this was a sitch she couldn't control. Kim Possible was very smart, yet she took nothing for granted when it came to her schoolwork, always applying herself, so she could be sure she'd do well on her exams. But this test was unlike any other she'd ever taken. She wasn't taking a test on Federation History or Quantum Mechanics or Principles of Warp Field Engineering.
Instead, she was taking a very different kind of test, one that didn't test knowledge so much as her fitness for command.
The Kobayashi Maru.
The exam had remained unchanged over the decades, save a shift in the scenario from the Klingon Neutral Zone to the one with the Romulans. The test was legendary, the ultimate unwinnable sitch. Where it had once been reserved for those on the command track, now every cadet at the Academy faced it. And none had ever prevailed, other than one James T. Kirk.
And he had to take the test three times before he bested the program.
And that was only after he had cheated by reprogramming the simulation.
The Academy took measures to ensure that could never happen again.
"Okay, so everybody fails, KP, what's the big deal?" he'd asked the day Kim learned she'd been assigned a test date and explained to him what was so special about this particular exam. "Just do your best. Minimize the damage."
She fumed. "No, Ron. I am not going to fail and just call that my best. I'm going to beat this thing. Check my motto: I can do anything."
Ron decided it would be prudent not to point out that Kim's personal motto was a bit, well, big-heady, though he would be the first to agree that Kim could do almost anything.
Ron saw very little of Kim over the following weeks. Every spare moment she had she spent cramming for the test, studying decades worth of students' exam results, reading everything written about the Kobi. She was obsessed with finding a way to beat the Kobayashi Maru.
Kim called Ron the night before the exam and apologized for being so wrapped up in her test preparations. They agreed that they'd meet the next day after her exam debriefing and do something fun.
Ron now found himself looking at his chrono, rather than the beautifully landscaped quadrangle or the attractive female cadets walking by. He knew Kim should be appearing very soon. He looked up and saw a familiar auburn-haired young woman emerge from a classroom building. As she walked briskly in his direction, he stood and headed to meet her. He could soon see that she was not happy.
"KP … ? " he began to ask hesitantly.
"All dead!" she snapped. "I avoided a war with the Romulans, and didn't lose my ship, but everyone on the Kobi was killed. Because of me!"
"Maybe a little Ronshine will help …" he said, hoping to help her calm down.
"Drop it, Ron. I don't want any Ronshine now, okay?" she snapped. "I'd just as soon take a rain check on this afternoon."
It was clear to Ron that Kim wasn't asking, but was telling. Before he could say anything she was stalking away from him.
Ron stood there, slack-jawed. Kim never treated him this way. He felt like he'd just been kicked in the gut.
"She just take the Kobayashi Maru?"
"Uh, yeah," Ron answered as he turned to see an old man by his side.
"Don't take it personally. They're all told how they can't pass, that it's a test of character, to see how they deal under pressure. But every one of them wants to be the first one to beat the Kobi, to do what even Kirk couldn't do, and become an instant Starfleet legend. They invest so much of themselves in preparing, then they take the test and they start kicking themselves," he said with a shake of his head. "You her boyfriend?"
"Me? Nah," Ron answered. "Though I am her best friend."
"Best friend? I thought only eight year olds had 'best friends.'"
"Hey don't knock it, dude. Kim and I have been best buds since we were four. In it together, through thick and thin," Ron said proudly. "Or at least I thought …" he added as his shoulders sagged. While he was sad that Kim had just brushed him off, what really bothered him was that there was a part of her life to which he seemed to be totally and wholly irrelevant: Starfleet. And, unfortunately, this was now the central part of her life. He began to see the future, and he didn't like it.
The old man could see the pain in Ron's eyes.
"The thing they never tell these kids is that the hardest part of the test is how you handle yourself afterwards. Be there for her. Good captains – and hurting friends – need someone they can lean on, even if they don't realize it."
That made Ron feel better. Kim usually was the last one to recognize that she needed support. Starfleet'll be a pressure cooker, she'll really need me then, he thought.
"Thanks. By the way, are you some sort of therapist or counselor?"
"Nope. Just the gardener," Boothby said before wandering off.
A few hours later, Ron quietly set a box down in front of Kim's door, pressed the chime, and ran. When she opened the door she looked around and saw nobody, but found the package and a note.
I know you don't want any Ronshine, but I thought you might like some Seven Layers of Heaven. Remember, I've got your back, even when things look hopeless. Your best bud, Ron
Kim took the note and the cake into her room. She'd been seething all afternoon, wracking her brain, analyzing her every action, trying to figure out how to beat the Kobi simulation. I blow off Ron and he goes and bakes me a cake, she thought. There's a lesson in here somewhere.
She looked at her monitor, then at the chocolate surprise. She rummaged through her desk drawer and found a fork and knife and cut herself some cake.
"Mmmm. This is spankin'," she said aloud as she ate some more of the homemade dessert.
She pressed the call button on her monitor.
"Yo, KP!"
"Ron Stoppable, have I told you how amazing you are?"
"I am what I is!" he said proudly. "You like the cake?"
"Let's just say that Seven Layers of Heaven beats Kobayashi Maru every time. Maybe if I fed some of this to the test administrator, he'd give me some cheat codes."
"Hey, I like that, KP. Change the rules. Good approach."
Kim chuckled. "Sorry I was such the jerk earlier."
"Don't worry. I know it was a big deal."
"Yeah, but it's not as big a deal as a best friend who's got my back. If I've got crewmates like you when I'm in space, I really will be able to do anything."
"And if you don't?"
"Then I'll call you. Give the Romulans a dose of Ronshine."
"See? I knew you were smart."
Kim smiled warmly at her lifelong friend. "So, I hear there's a new restaurant in Sausalito —"
"Ooo ooo! You mean the Tex-Mex Vulcan Fusion place?"
Kim laughed as Ron's face lit up. She was going to miss his enthusiasm when she graduated and was deployed.
"That's the one. You up for a ferry ride? It should be a nice night to be out on the water."
"I'm all about ferry rides with my best friend!"
VI.
Kim knows what she's up against. She's keeping her cool. And now I need to figure out a way to help, Ron told himself. Kim had learned some important lessons from the Kobayashi Maru simulation, lessons she'd shared with Ron. Keep things in perspective. Rely on your crew and friends in an emergency. Don't hope for the impossible – but try to pull off the improbable. And if you can find a way to rewrite the rules, do it. He didn't know how he was going to help, but he'd find a way; that she'd essentially asked him to do that spoke volumes to him about how much she trusted him. He was not going to let her down.
VII.
Shego observed that the people were polite, the crowds on the streets orderly, and the vehicles floated by at safe speeds. This has got to be the most incredibly boring capital in the galaxy, Shego thought. At least the red sky is kind of funky. And the buildings are interesting. The disguised glamorous henchwoman thought the intricate, interesting, even wild architecture spoke volumes about the Vulcans and their repressed emotions.
The two criminals and two synthodrones were moving freely about the Vulcan capital, heading towards the headquarters of the Vulcan Science Academy. Shego was relieved that Lore was capable of keeping a straight face. She recalled how excited he was when he saw just how good the morphing abilities of Drakken's simulacra were. He'd been like a Ferengi in an unsecured bank vault, unable to stop grinning.
The synthodrones now looked like garden-variety Vulcans. That would change once they gained access to the facility. Lore had planned things out carefully and was hoping to not only create tension between Earth and Vulcan, but spark an interstellar crisis between Vulcan and Romulus.
VIII.
Riker hates me.
That was the only explanation that Tom could think of.
And it's Kim's fault. Riker hates me because of Kim. She's the only reason I'm here.
The trip to Drakken's World had been uneventful. No Breen. No Ferengi. No Nausicaans. Tom felt like a glorified taxi driver.
Will Du had lost no time in asserting his authority over the mission. Though just a lieutenant like Tom, Will made it clear that he also held a remit from Galactic Justice, was on excellent terms with Admiral Nechayev and other Starfleet worthies, and had significant direct experience in criminal investigations. He also made it clear that he sought no input from Tom, that he expected Tom to follow his orders, and that Tom would do best keeping quiet and flying the shuttle.
Less than two weeks earlier, Tom had been flying high. He had the galaxy at his fingertips, Kim was his girlfriend, Riker even listened to the occasional suggestion. Now he was on the outs. All because of Kim and her freak friend – he still refused to think of Ron as Kim's new boyfriend.
It was unfair. Kim and Stoppable were now mixed up in high drama with the leader of the Klingon Empire while he was chauffeuring some GJ private eye to search for clues in an investigation that was taken away from none other than Kim.
That's what really amazed him. Kim was the golden child right now. Yet because of her impetuosity, not only had Tom's career been thrown off track, but that loser Stoppable was disfigured, and the investigation was so messed up that Galactic Justice had to be called in.
She couldn't even do that right, he fulminated, unwilling to recognize the politics that had been involved in that decision. Kim couldn't just do the right thing and listen to me. Instead she had to go all "I can do anything" and mess things up on this case. She should be flying this thing right now, not me. Hmpph. She's probably partying with that loser and the Klingons …
IX.
"Let the contest begin!" Gowron roared.
The two women stood facing each other at the end of the Feasting Hall. They began to circle each other warily, each looking for an opening.
Grilka bared her teeth and struck first.
Kick. Spin. Kick. Punch. Punch, all in rapid succession.
Each move sent Kim further into retreat.
"You dress like a Klingon warrior, but you fight like a Ferengi," Grilka sneered as she maneuvered Kim back towards a corner.
"I hope your fighting skills aren't as weak as your banter," Kim riposted. Seeing that there was now ample space on all sides of Grilka to maneuver, Kim did a backflip, then surprised the Klingon as she launched herself into a double handspring. Kim landed behind her opponent, pivoted on her right foot and drove her boot into the Klingon's side. Kim didn't like fighting dirty, but as far as she was concerned she – and Ron – had been ambushed by this challenge.
Grilka staggered and Kim followed up with a Kirk-style club blow to the back of the warrior's neck, driving her to her knees. Kim then kicked out again. But this time she was the one who was surprised.
Grilka, on her knees, reached up and grabbed Kim's outstretched leg. Kim landed on her back with a painful thud.
The Klingon rose, turned, then delivered a swift kick to Kim's side, causing Kim to clutch herself in pain. She was surprised when Grilka didn't follow up her assault with another blow.
But Kim's surprise didn't last long. As she got to her feet, she noticed the Klingon standing before the dais.
And in Grilka's hand was the knife she had earlier embedded in the table's surface.
X.
"Well, this has been depressingly easy," Lore quipped as they made their way down a corridor of the Vulcan Science Academy.
"Don't knock easy, sport. Easy's good," Shego replied.
"And I thought you had more spirit, Shego," he said mockingly.
"Hey, I've got plenty of spirit, Tin Man. But I've also got some brains. We didn't come here for a rumble; we came for the PDVI."
"And we'll get it, Shego. But you have to admit, it would have been fun to have to work for it."
Shego just stared at her partner. She actually enjoyed a good challenge. They kept her on her toes. But she also didn't feel a need to actively seek out pointless trouble. That was a whole other matter. Lore, on the other hand, seemed like a moth attracted to candlelight. She still thought his Romulan plan was whack. Unfortunately, he was wedded to it and he insisted on its implementation. She fervently hoped his subterfuge did indeed provide a distraction that would hasten their escape, rather than a complication that would facilitate their apprehension.
"Okay, Stan and Ollie," Lore said. "Morph for Papa!"
The android watched with glee as the two synthodrones changed form. Ridges emerged on their brows; their skin took on a slightly ruddier color. And their non-descript Vulcan workwear changed into Romulan Tal Shiar uniforms.
Shego reached into her satchel and distributed four Romulan disruptors. She hoped that Lore wouldn't be trigger-happy. Then she withdrew a device that she overlaid on the biometric scanner. She pressed a sequence of keys and grinned as the red light on the device changed to green. It was with great satisfaction and anticipation that she and Lore watched the non-descript door open.
They quietly made their way down the corridor. If the schematics Shego had secured from Big Daddy Brotherson were correct, the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer would be behind the third door on the left.
XI.
Kim quickly scanned the room. The most attractive weapon option was the braziers; unfortunately, they were firmly attached to the wall. As Grilka charged her, Kim dropped to the floor and rolled. She cursed the Klingon who designed the Feasting Hall. Everybody was sitting on long benches. A chair would have been most useful.
Grilka lunged and Kim once again evaded her. She dropped into a defensive crouch and awaited the Klingon's next attack. When it came, Kim's hand shot out and grabbed her opponent's wrist. She was trying to shake the weapon loose, when Grilka's other hand lashed out and caught her beneath the jaw, staggering her. Kim was unprepared as the Klingon slashed at her torso.
XII.
"So," Tom finally said, unable to abide the silence any longer, "is this one of those 'I'll have to kill you if I tell you' deals, or can you say how you got this lead?"
Will looked at Tom, musing that it would be very helpful if Section 31 did have such a security designation for information – though only if it were available for use by top agents like himself, of course. He wondered how much he should tell his companion about Ed Lipsky.
Lipsky's unorthodox attitude towards his Starfleet duties had only been discovered by accident. But once the discovery had been made, it didn't take long for Starfleet Security to become very concerned, which quickly led to the involvement of Section 31. Lipsky had put himself in a position to compromise every single one of Starfleet's computer systems. That, in turn, had led to the unannounced visit to Lipsky's quarters by two Section 31 operatives, Lt. Commander Smith and Lt. Commander Smith.
At first, Lipsky had refused to say anything without the assistance of a lawyer, and even then he'd been reticent; he had no desire to be on the receiving end of Shego's "green magic." But his attitude began to change when his interrogators let on that one of the benefits of the Federation's friendly relations with the Klingon Empire was the ability to render prisoners to Rura Penthe.
Everybody in the Alpha Quadrant knew that in its centuries-long history, only Jonathan Archer, James T. Kirk and Leonard McCoy had escaped from Rura Penthe. Ed did not fool himself into thinking that, were he to be sent to the prison world, he would be adding his name to that very short list.
He told his interrogators what they wanted to know.
And then they sent him to Rura Penthe anyway.
Will considered the matter a bit more. He knew that having regular Starfleet officers in one's debt was useful to Section 31 operatives.
On the other hand, Carter struck him as being an annoying prat, and playing him could be fun. Besides, Will thought, I can always begin to reel him in later.
Looking at the pilot with a straight face, Will simply said, "I would have to kill you."
XIII.
"There are three guys in there," Shego hissed as she looked up from her stolen Starfleet tricorder
"Excellent," Lore replied; his plans for creating problems between the Vulcans and the Romulans required some on-site assistance. "Stan, Ollie, you ready?" he asked.
The two syntho-Romulans nodded.
"Then it's show time!" Lore announced, nodding to Shego.
She withdrew the security override device she had used earlier. Once again, she was able to open the door without difficulty.
Three surprised Vulcans looked up to see two Romulans pointing disruptors at them. Before they had a chance to react, they had all crumpled to the ground. Shego, still outside, entered some more commands into her device, cutting all power in the room.
"Okay, Golden Boy. Go to it. I'll keep an eye open out here."
Much to her surprise, Lore leaned in for a kiss.
"C'mon. One for luck," he said.
"You are incorrigible," she snapped.
"Yes, but that's why you like me," he replied with a carefree grin.
Shego shook her head, smiled, then gave Lore his encouragement.
He walked into the pitch-black room. Fortunately for the android, Doctor Soong had given Lore optical hardware that allowed him to see under almost any imaginable condition.
He made his way to a panel, then turned to Stan and took the synthodrone's disruptor. He fired at the wall; a drawer slid out, revealing the second half of the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer.
"Come to Daddy," Lore said as he reached into the bay.
The moment his hand touched the device an alarm went off and dull red lights came on.
"How?" he asked, stunned, looking around in disbelief.
"C'mon, Android. Time to go! Now!" Shego barked as the door at the end of the corridor slid open and security personnel began to pour through.
She fired a couple of shots from her weapon as she ducked into the room.
The guards entered the lab just in time to see four figures dematerialize.
XIV.
Kim's eyes opened wide as the knife sliced through her tunic and across her midriff. Kim cursed herself for having indulged her hosts. The bloodwine had definitely slowed her reflexes. She looked to her right and grabbed a plate of food, which she hurled at Grilka, who ducked before lunging towards Kim again.
Kim was now facing Ron. He could now see the crimson line across her torso.
He didn't care about interstellar incidents. He wasn't going to watch Kim get killed by some nut-job Klingon who thought he'd then be her husband.
Rewrite the rules, Rondo. This is between them. But you and KP are a team. You are her weapon … but she'll kill you if you jump into the fight … so how else can I even things up? She needs a knife. But I don't have one. Then Ron smiled. But I do have a magic sword!
He closed his eyes and concentrated; the bat'leth began to levitate.
Kim was desperately trying to fend off Grilka when she saw the Sword of Kahless rise behind Ron. Her eyes opened wide as it flew towards her; she stretched out a hand and grabbed the incoming weapon and thought, You rock, Ron! Then she smirked at Grilka.
"What is the meaning of this?" Gowron demanded.
"Don't know what you're talking about, dude," Ron said innocently.
"You have interfered!"
"Hey, maybe KP's got the mad fu skills, too!" Ron said. "Besides, we're a team. That makes me one of her weapons."
Gowron glowered at Ron.
"You are treacherous, human."
"I try," he said smugly.
Kim meanwhile smirked at Grilka. "Still feeling tough with that knife?"
"At least I have my honor," the Klingon said as she and Kim circled one another.
"Oh really? Where's the honor in coming prepared to issue a challenge that the other party has never heard of?"
"It is not my fault you did not know of the challenge."
"Hiding behind the fine print? So Ferengi," Kim said breezily as she flipped the blade and brought the blade down on Grilka's wrist, knocking the knife loose.
The Klingon looked at her weapon, then at Kim. She dove for the knife, grabbed it, rolled and was about to spring to her feet when she found the sharp edge of the bat'leth blade inches from her face.
"Make one more move and you're dead."
Grilka looked at Kim. She was surprised by the feral look on the Starfleet officer's face.
"He's mine," Kim said. "Got it?"
The Klingon stared impassively at Kim.
"You're mine, too. I own your life. Now get up!" she said harshly.
"No. If you wish to be the Consort, you must kill me."
"What part of 'I'm already the Consort' don't you understand?" Kim growled. "I don't need to kill you for that. I've already got Ron's love, which is something you could never have."
"You dishonor me with your taunts, human. Kill me."
"No," Kim said, breathing heavily. "I won't do it," she said, as if speaking to a third person.
"Kill me," Grilka demanded.
"No!" Kim hissed. "The Empire needs its warriors. It needs you."
Kim then threw the Sword of Kahless aside and dropped to her knees, her skin pale, her face drenched in sweat. Grilka, confused, looked at her, then at the knife. She knew then that she could strike at the human with impunity. But the Starfleet officer was right. She would never be able to win the Chosen One's heart. In fact, he would probably kill her in her sleep for ending the life of his chosen mate. And the human had shown herself to be a warrior, worthy of her place. With a twinge of jealousy, but also a measure of closure, she watched as Ron jogged around the table and knelt by Kim's side, confirming what she had just been told: Kim truly was the Consort.
Ron wrapped an arm around her, "You okay, KP?" He knew it was an inane question, but he couldn't help but ask.
"Been better," she confessed with a weak smile. "Too much blood wine and gagh."
"How about I get you back to Doctor Crusher, then maybe give you some Seven Layers of Heaven?"
"I'd like that, please and thank you," Kim answered as she rested her head on Ron's shoulder.
XV.
"The security here is surprisingly lax."
"Maybe it's a trap?"
"Obviously, that's a possibility we must consider. Remain alert."
Tom rolled his eyes. "Duh," he muttered.
"I'm sorry?" Will asked as he looked at Tom the way a teacher would a misbehaving student.
"Nothing," Tom groused.
"Mr. Carter, let me be frank," Will said. "I am aware that you think you are above this assignment. Is this attitude common to all officers on Enterprise? Ensign Possible seethed when I was brought onto the case, not willing to admit that someone else might be better able to do something. You seem unwilling to set aside your ego for the good of the mission."
Tom looked at Will through narrowed eyes. "Don't go confusing me with Kim," he snapped. "She's reckless and undisciplined and doesn't know what's good for her and can't recognize when someone else might be better suited for a mission. I can. I know you're a security guy. I just don't like being talked to in a patronizing fashion."
"I did not realize I was being patronizing," Will replied innocently. He knew he spoke with confidence – with good reason, of course – but he always thought he was unfailingly polite and professional. "I am sorry if I've caused any offense."
Tom looked at Will, then gave him a charming grin. Du might be a jerk, he thought, but maybe he could be a useful one. At this point, any ally might be helpful. Maybe if he did well on this mission, Du would speak to Nechayev about a transfer. A new post might be what Tom needed. "Don't worry, Will. Now, what do we do next?"
XVI.
As Kim sat on the biobed, Ron held her hand. Dr. Crusher ran a medical device across Kim's midriff, healing the light flesh wound.
"Well, Ensign, that's about it. Stay away from bloodwine and you should be ready for duty tomorrow morning, though if you like I can check you in now and we can begin the dermoregeneration process on your face and torso." Kim now had a light scar across her middle to match the one on her cheek.
"I'd prefer to wait if that's okay, Doctor," Kim replied. "The Orionisi are coming and I so don't want to miss that …"
Beverly smiled, impressed and slightly amused by Kim's desire to be in the thick of the action.
"Okay, that can wait. However, I think you'd do well to sleep in. I'll tell Captain Picard that you'll be at your post at 1200 hours."
Kim didn't bother protesting; she knew that the doctor, having yielded on the first point, wouldn't be swayed. Besides, Kim was exhausted. "Thanks, Doctor," she said as she hopped off the bed.
Kim and Ron walked back to her quarters so she could change. She was beginning to think that maybe it really was time to just move in with Ron. Why not? she mused. As far as the Klingons are concerned, we're all but married. She retrieved some things so she'd be ready for the next day, then took off the damaged Klingon uniform.
Kim was down to her decidedly unexciting Starfleet issue undergarments when she saw Ron's reflection in her mirror. She smiled as she noticed he was staring at her in frank admiration. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I know what you're thinking, Ron."
"Oh?" he asked impishly.
"Mmm hmm. You're thinking, 'maybe she'll say she wants some Ron instead of some Seven Layers of Heaven' …"
"Weeeelll …" he said sheepishly.
"I do love my Ron," she purred. "But I also love my Seven Layers of Heaven." She brought her lips to his. "Maybe I'll just have to have my cake and eat it, too …"
XVII.
"What?" Worf asked sharply.
"Nothing," Bonnie replied. "Well, so okay, something."
"Yes?"
"You're kind of cute."
"Cute?" the Klingon asked, incredulous. He had never been called 'cute' before.
Bonnie flashed him a sly grin. "Okay, not so much cute as hunky …"
Hunky. That sounded better to Worf.
"… can I buy you a drink in Ten Forward?" she asked seductively.
Worf looked at Bonnie carefully. She was confident and sharp-tongued. She held her wine reasonably well. He had learned of her relationship to Kim and Ron over dinner and while disappointed they were not friends, was satisfied that they were no longer rivals. She had spirit. She might be a schemer – he sensed that about her – but with some cultivation, she might also develop a true sense of honor – he had seen how tweaked she was by the way the Challenge was announced. And she was very attractive, with a true woman's figure. He made a decision.
"Yes, that would be agreeable."
XVIII.
"Ron?"
"Mmm, yeah, KP," he murmured. He and Kim were curled up in the bed, an arm wrapped around her from behind. He found her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"I have to ask you something …"
The gnawing feeling she'd had ever since they left the Klingon battle cruiser refused to go away, and in the still of the night it demanded her attention, as much as she wanted to ignore it. What she thought might have been the alcohol or adrenaline seemed to be something else, something darker and more menacing.
Ron began to wake up. There was something about the tone of Kim's voice that worried him.
"Sure, KP." Kim rolled over to face Ron. He was shocked by the look of fear in her eyes. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"When you've held the Sword, have you felt anything?"
"Yeah, I have. It's like, well, I don't know what it's like, to be honest. Not so much tingly, but, well, weird – but in a good way."
"Have you wanted to hurt anyone?"
"No. Well yes, but that wasn't because of the Sword. I mean, obviously I wanted to kill those things that were attacking us, and I was not happy with the Klingons."
"Ron," Kim said in a small voice, "I wanted to kill her."
"Huh?"
"After I knocked Grilka down, I wanted to kill her. I was furious, enraged, and I wanted to … well, I wanted to cut her head off."
Kim wanting to kill someone in cold blood was sick and wrong. Ron thought about that for a moment. "But you didn't."
"No. I fought the urge," she said, shuddering as she recalled the fight.
"You still want to kill her?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No. Any desire to do that went away after I threw away the Sword. I'd say it was the bat'leth, Ron, but I didn't feel that way when I used it in the fight against Shego."
"Hmm. Maybe that's because it didn't know me yet. I'd felt a nice little feeling, kind of like diluted Atomic Spark Rocks, when I bought it, but it wasn't until we were on the moon that I learned I could make it sit up and do tricks and stuff. And even then …"
"So, now that it knows it belongs to you, it doesn't want anyone else using it …"
"Guess so. Though I'll have to have a little talk with it. My bat'leth's your bat'leth and all that."
"You goof," Kim said with a smile as she mussed up his hair. "You know, Ron," she said a bit more seriously, "we should tell the captain about this."
Ron nodded. "You're right. In the wrong hands, the Sword could be really dangerous." For reasons he couldn't explain, he had visions of Ambassador Fiske running amok with the bat'leth.
They lay together in silence, looking into one another's eyes, until fitful sleep overcame them.
XIX.
Vulcan authorities have already summoned the Romulan ambassador to demand an explanation regarding the involvement of two Tal Shiar operatives in a break-in at the Vulcan Science Academy.
"Oh, this is just too rich!" Lore enthused as he watched the broadcast on the newsnet. "They fell for it hook, line, and sinker!" He knew it didn't hurt that they'd alerted the news media to the break-in before they broke orbit. The moment the Vulcan government learned of the story, they began demanding answers. The holotapes at the lab clearly showed two Romulans along with two Vulcans. "I can't wait until the folks on Earth learn what was stolen. Then this will really get fun."
Shego just shook her head in disbelief. If Drakken had been running this operation, something would have gone wrong by now. But Lore actually seemed to be able to pull off a complicated plot. What that actually was, however, eluded her. And that made her nervous.
XX.
Drakken looked up at the security monitor and saw the two figures making their way along the base of the escarpment. He was glad he had listened to Shego and installed the camera at the remote location.
He turned to his red-suited synthodrones. "We seem to have some guests! Why don't you show them in?" he suggested.
XXI.
Will and Tom regained consciousness at the same time. The two Starfleet officers were surprised to find themselves shackled to the wall of what was clearly a lair.
Will looked around casually as if he'd been in this predicament before. Tom wasn't as sanguine. He'd always had visions of being a hero, of distinguishing himself by his bravery, but those dreams always involved him sitting in a captain's chair, commanding a ship in battle. He'd never imagined himself being captured.
"It would appear that you were right," Will said phlegmatically. "It was a trap."
"I think I could have done with being wrong this time," Tom joked weakly. "So, what do we do now?"
"We escape."
"But why would you want to do that?" a third voice asked. "You just arrived."
Tom and Will watched as a blue-skinned man emerged from the shadows.
"Drew Lipsky!" Will said.
"I prefer Doctor Drakken," the man said, an edge to his voice.
"Drew Theodore P. Lipsky," Will replied authoritatively, "you are under arrest, per the —"
"You don't seem to understand the captor-captee relationship, do you?" Drakken observed.
"I think you mean the captor-captured –" Tom noted.
"Nnnggg! Whatever!" Drakken snapped. "Now tell me, who are you? Who sent you?"
Will and Tom responded by giving Drakken their names, ranks, and serial numbers, and nothing more.
"So that's it?" Drakken said petulantly. "That's all you're going to tell me?"
"That is correct," Will said. "And since we are Starfleet officers, we are trained in multiple techniques to resist the forcible extraction of information."
"Oh really?" Drakken said with a sudden confidence the two men found disturbing. "You Starfleet types think you're all that, but you're not. Have either of you ever heard of Ceti Alpha V?"
"Yes," Will said, betraying anxiety for the first time since Tom had met him. Tom wished he'd paid more attention in Interstellar Geography.
"As you know, it has only one indigenous life form," Drakken said as he withdrew a small jar from his pocket. "Very lonely really. No chance to make friends. I know they'd like to get know both of you better …"
Will's eyes opened wide as Drakken approached him with two small, blue creatures. They had armored backs and sharp mandibles. Will had heard about what these things were capable of doing to humans. The late Admiral Chekhov, writing in his memoirs about his encounter with Khan Noonien Singh, had said that having one of the parasites invade his brain was the single worst experience of his life. It was excruciatingly painful and, even more disturbingly, it had resulted in his loss of free will, allowing Khan to make him do his bidding.
Beads of sweat began to form on Will's forehead as Drakken lifted one of the creatures from the container with tweezers and placed it on his shoulder.
The GJ operative shuddered as he felt the thing climb his neck towards the back of his ear. Then, the parasite began to pierce his skin. The pain began and Will let out a blood-curdling scream.
Tom had never been so terrified in his life. He could feel the blood drain from his face when Drakken turned to him.
"I-I'll tell you anything you want to know," Tom pleaded, his shame outweighed by his fear.
His heart sank as Drakken, holding another of the creatures, smiled at him with malice and said, "Oh, I'm sure you will …"
TBC …
A/N: Three weeks to finish up all of my assignments so I can actually receive my master's means little time for writing in the days ahead. I've got some short stories and one-shots that I'm planning to post over the next few Fridays. KP:TNG chapters are longer and more complex than the other things I post and thus take much more time to write. So, please bear with me: Kim, Ron and the Enterprise gang will return in late May.