A/N: In some circles 13 is the archetypal bad number. In others, it's 666 that is deemed most baleful. In the KP universe, the most despised of numbers is, of course, 901.
I have decided to redeem this most unloved of numbers by turning the milestone of the 901st review into an opportunity for celebration. To do this, I have created "The Eric." This award will be retired after its presentation on this one occasion. The winner of "The Eric" is TexasDad, who unwittingly submitted the 901st review for this story. TexasDad's prize: he gets to name the plot or theme of a one-shot that I will write after I complete KP:TNG.
Thanks to campy, AtomicFire, MichaelCross, whitem, JPMod, US.Steele, DR.J0Nes, Commander Argus, Nightwing 509, Josh84, Uru Baen, spectre666, zeerak, RealityBreakGirl, Yuri Sisteble, mkusenagi2, Louis Mielke, kim's 1 fan, surforst, conan98002, CajunBear73, Whisper from the Shadows, Molloy, Ezbok58a, Taechunsa, Slyfer, Zaratan, and TexasDad for reviewing.
As always, special thanks to campy for his beta and proof work.
Leave a review, get a response.
If you saw it on KP, it belongs to Disney; TNG, it belongs to Paramount.
I.
Picard grimaced, knowing he'd just been played – expertly – by Lore. Before him lay an incapacitated officer, a deactivated android, and a padd containing a morbidly chilling taunt. He suspected all three were somehow tied to the malfunctioning warp core.
"Number One, are there any artificial life forms aboard the secondary hull?"
Riker conducted a scan of the rapidly receding part of the ship. "One, sir," he replied before turning back to Picard. "Lore?"
"I would think so," the captain replied.
"What's he up to?" Riker wondered aloud.
"That's what I'd like to find out," Picard said. "But something tells me that there will not be a warp core breach."
"Looks like you're right, Captain," agreed Enterprise's executive officer. "Scans show no sign of problems with the warp core. We've been had."
"The question remains, what else has Lore been up to?" Picard mused. "Mr. La Forge, please run a level three diagnostic."
"Yes, sir," he replied. Another engineer joined Geordi at the station, freeing him up to join the captain, who was now kneeling by Data's side.
"Geordi, do you have any idea what might have happened to Data?" Picard asked.
Geordi knelt down, pulled back a piece of Data's scalp and plugged his tricorder into a node. A moment later the chief engineer sighed and said, "I don't know, sir. His systems have just … shut down. Normally, I'd take him down to Main Engineering to perform a full systems diagnostic, but …"
Picard grunted. "Yes, I know." The captain was finding the situation to be highly aggravating.
The doors to the bridge slid open and Beverly Crusher emerged; she hurried down to Will Du's prostrate form. She immediately noticed the crushed parasite and the blood in its victim's ear. "That was in his head, wasn't it?" she asked.
"Yes, and if it's what I believe it is," Picard said, "it made him susceptible to mind control."
"I'm going to have to get him to Sickbay," she said.
"Make it so, Doctor."
Crusher was about to press her comm badge when it chirped.
"Crusher here," she said.
"Dr. Crusher, this is Ogawa. I'm hoping this is a systems malfunction, but we're detecting Trioxybenzahydrine in the air."
Beverly's eyes shot open. "Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Trioxybenzahydrine," Picard, instantly alert to a potential new danger, said. "What is it?"
"Jean-Luc, it's a toxic gas. If its spread isn't stopped, everyone on board will begin losing control of their motor skills within ten minutes and will be semiconscious at best within the next twenty."
"Merde," Picard swore. "Mr. Geminini," he said to the man now sitting at the ops station, "Determine where the gas is being released and shut down those parts of the environmental control system."
"Sir," the officer responded, "environmental control systems are not responding."
"Mr. La Forge," Picard said. "Any thoughts?"
"I don't understand what's happening, sir," Geordi replied, looking at Picard. "The system just shut itself down. I'm guessing some sort of virus has been released into the main computer." The engineer turned back to his data readouts. "Snap. Captain, main life support has failed."
"How long do we have?" the captain asked.
"Using reserves, and shutting down all non-essential systems we have three and a half, maybe four hours at most," La Forge replied.
"I'll begin broadcasting an SOS," Riker said.
"Make it so, Number One," Picard agreed before adding sardonically, "Assuming Lore hasn't also sabotaged our communications systems."
Picard's suspicion that the android had done just that was to be confirmed moments later.
II.
Lore looked around the battle bridge with satisfaction; soon it would be filled with synthodrones from Drak Force One. He expected Stan and Ollie to hail him at any moment to begin the transport process.
The android was focused on the viewscreen with its image of Enterprise's receding saucer section. He had been tempted to simply destroy the saucer; among the systems he'd taken off-line were weapons and deflector shields, leaving the primary hull a ripe, defenseless target. But Lore was not only criminally insane; he was sadistically cruel. And the idea of knowing that he had not only foiled his brother with a positronic-net-dampening EMP burst from the data padd Will Du had delivered but had also succeeded in defeating Jean-Luc Picard, who would now have to spend his last hours knowing both who had killed him and that he was impotent to do anything about that, was too delicious to pass up. Lore relished knowing that Picard, as he lost control of his body and drifted into a half-waking state, would know he was going to suffer a slow, painful death courtesy of the eldest son of Noonien Soong.
A console light flashed and a comm link chirped, drawing Lore's attention from the viewscreen. He grinned, knowing that the first of the synthodrones had arrived.
III.
Ron sat slumped against the cold iron bars of the holding pen. For the first time in his life, he was succumbing to true despair. He had always thought there was hope, even during that whack blizzard on Olympus Mons when he was a teenager. Of course, Kim had been there with him then. Now, he was utterly alone.
He wondered where Kim was, what she was doing. He wanted nothing more than to see her. He didn't care if she was loving and seductive; animated and engaged; or even ill tempered, sharp-tongued, and sarcastic. He missed her terribly. And he feared that unlike his trip to Wannaweep, there would be no going home this time, no happy reunion with his best friend.
Ron was worried about Kim and how she would fare now that he was gone. He knew she was strong, independent, and resilient. But he also knew she had opened her heart to him in a way she never had to anyone else and he now feared she, the girl who could do anything, would blame herself for his predicament. He didn't want Kim leading a guilt-filled life. Part of him wished he had never come to Enterprise: If he hadn't made the trip, he wouldn't be in this hellhole and Kim wouldn't be in a position to spend the next ten decades feeling she had let him down. Ron didn't feel as if she had – that honor belonged to Yori – but he knew Kim would feel responsible. That was Kim's way.
His thoughts turned from Kim to Yori. He actually chuckled. Yori's appearance with the phaser had surprised him. He never would have expected that of her. He still couldn't believe Yori was working for Rayna. Kim's former roommate had seemed like such a straight arrow, a polite, by-the-book officer, admittedly a hot one, who would sleep in her uniform. He wracked his brain for an answer to the puzzle of why Yori would shoot him, but was having no luck at finding an answer. Ron's ruminations were interrupted, however, when an Orionisi slaver opened the cage, reached in, and roughly pulled him out.
Ron knew what would happen next: he would be brought to the auction block. As he was led away, he thought bitterly of how strange life was. A few days earlier his most fervent wish was that his life-long best friend would be interested in pursuing a romance with him; that wish had been granted, more fully than Ron ever imagined possible. Now he had a very different wish: that there was a market for one-eyed cooks. The alternative, being used as chum for his captors' animals, was a fate he simply didn't want to contemplate.
IV.
Shego left the hostelry where she and Drakken were staying and wandered out onto the gloomy streets of Taigus VIII's main city.
Drew was still ranting and whining about how they had been double-crossed, how they had been cheated of their best chance ever at galactic domination. While Shego was also royally tweaked by the way in which their plans had been foiled, she had no interest in listening to any more of Drakken's complaints.
Shego was nothing if not practical. She was a criminal. Drakken was a criminal. Eric was created by a criminal. Lore was beyond criminal. Shego had never bought the line about honor among thieves. Thieves stole. Thieves cheated – and not just from an unsuspecting or innocent public, but from each other. So if treachery had entered into the picture, she couldn't be surprised.
She had to give Lore his props. While Shego knew it was Eric who had shot them, she was convinced it was Lore who was behind what had happened. Shego hated to admit it, but the android had gotten the better of them.
The green-skinned villainess had made her way down the congested main thoroughfare and walked purposefully into the slave mart, communicating to the various Orionisi males through her posture that she was a woman of consequence, someone to be taken seriously. She had long ago learned how to comport herself in this setting: the teeming, noisy emporium was familiar territory for her; she had sold more than one hapless captive there. She ignored the cries and moans of the desperate, defeated-looking beings from dozens of worlds that filled the gloomy hall as she looked up at the bidding board. Seeing that an auction was about to take place, Shego made her way to the block to see if anyone interesting was about to be sold.
When she saw who was being led up to the block, a wicked grin spread across her face. Shego decided that if she wasn't going to enjoy ruling the Alpha Quadrant, she was at least going to enjoy a good meal. She was going to treat herself to her own personal cook. And making the situation even sweeter, given the sorry shape he was in, she suspected she could buy Kim Possible's sidekick for a relative pittance.
V.
Kim had made sure to do her research on the Orionisi before they arrived on Taigus. She knew how to carry herself so she would be taken seriously; she couldn't help but smile when she recalled her light-hearted banter with Picard and Riker about her scar. She would indeed be seen as damaged goods, though she was more interested in being seen as dangerous. She hoped the scar, along with her hair pulled back would convey that image.
In addition to being familiar with Orionisi mores, she knew how the auctions worked. She wasn't surprised to learn that the bidding would be managed much in the way it would be on Earth. However, thanks to technology, the Orionisi could ensure at every stage of the auction that a bidder had sufficient funds to pay should he prevail. That way, nobody's time was wasted. Thanks to Wade, funds weren't a problem – Kim now had a fortune at her disposal. She had had no qualms about asking Wade to hack into Montgomery Fiske's accounts on Qo'noS and Ferenginar. Since she was sure the ambassador was responsible for Ron's sitch, she thought it was appropriate that, at the very least, the diplomat fund Ron's release.
Kim strode from Calypso with confidence; Worf and Rufus were each a step behind her. As the threesome approached the entrance to the slave emporium, an imposing figure blocked their way. He leered openly at Kim.
"Which of you is selling her?" he asked. "I'll take her off your hands before the next auction."
Kim, not pleased, looked at the man through narrowed eyes, then with lightning speed took him down and relieved him of his weapon. Much to his surprise and chagrin, his disruptor was pointed in his face. "Your customer relations skills are so lacking," growled Kim.
Worf, looming over Kim's shoulders, bared his teeth.
"I believe you owe the lady an apology," Rufus said menacingly.
The Orionisi, recognizing he had made a mistake, grunted one in response.
Kim then pocketed the guard's weapon. He was about to protest but relented when he saw both Worf and Rufus had already withdrawn their phasers. There may have been a dampening field inside the emporium itself, but outside, firearms remained fully functional.
Kim was ready to enter the sprawling mart. They were now close enough that, if Ron were indeed inside, the Kimmunicator would be able to detect him. She decided it was time to confirm her hunch that he was present. She withdrew the device from a pouch on her belt and looked at its screen. Her eyes lit up and her heart began to pound. Neither Worf nor Rufus was surprised when she said, "Let's go. Ron's in there."
VI.
Ron knew he must look terrible. His patch was gone, he was bruised, his hair was a mess. He was even missing his pants. But he still thought a cook would draw more interest from the crowd.
Instead, there was just one bidder.
Shego.
He desperately wanted someone else to offer a counter-bid. He saw what Shego had done to Bunt and he knew from personal experience how competent and unforgiving a fighter she was. But as worried as he was for himself, he was even more worried for Kim. Shego struck him as being the kind of person who liked to win. And she had not defeated Kim when the two women had met. Ron could not help but fear that Shego would use him as bait to try to trap Kim.
When Ron was led to the auction block, he had thought that nothing else could go wrong in his life. But as he considered the prospect that he could be used by Shego to capture his wife, he knew he was wrong. He began to feel queasy as he envisioned a defeated Kim being led up to the block on which he now stood.
Suddenly, he felt a need to retch.
VII.
"Kim. On the block. It is Ron," Worf said, pointing from the middle of the floor to the auction block beneath the giant bidding board.
Kim saw her husband and gasped. He was in awful shape and he was in the midst of being sick. She flinched when the auctioneer, obviously displeased with what Ron had just done, pressed the button on his controller and shocked Ron, who dropped to his knees in pain. Filled with righteous fury, she shoved her way to the front of the crowd.
Her first instinct was to jump onto the podium and kill the hawker. Never before had Kim actually wanted to kill someone, but at that moment she not only wanted to end the Orionisi's life slowly and painfully but knew she was perfectly capable of doing so. Yet the rational part of Kim's brain asserted itself, convincing her that violence would be counterproductive. If she killed the auctioneer, Ron would not be free and she would be in trouble; the number of armed Orionisi in the auction hall was impressive. She knew what she needed to do.
Kim raised her hand and made a sign. The hawker, surprised that anyone else would be interested in such a pathetic specimen, could see she was bidding. He offered a sickly smile, then sent a minion to confirm that Kim was capable of supporting her bid. He took her banking particulars, ran a check, then nodded to the man next to Ron.
The hawker grinned. He always liked a competitive auction.
Shego cursed as she saw the text and numerals on the oversized bidding board change to reflect the entry of a second party into the auction. She looked to see who else was trying to buy Ron. When she realized that her competition was none other than Kim she was furious. She'd lost a galaxy already; she had no intention of losing her cook.
VIII.
Ron's first thought when he saw Kim in the milling sea of faces was that he was hallucinating. He was tired, he'd been beaten, and he didn't imagine that the repeated shocks from the thing on his neck would meet with Dr. Crusher's approval. But when he realized Worf and Rufus were right behind Kim, he concluded that Kim was real. Ron didn't think that even his imagination was that active, even if he did spend a good portion of his childhood palling around with an imaginary giant named Dorn.
He watched the threesome with interest. He was pretty sure Kim, who looked both determined and outraged, had begun bidding on him.
After she placed her bid, she talked briefly with one of the Orionisi. After the man walked away, she looked up in Ron's direction and locked eyes with him. He knew then for sure that he wasn't imagining things. He knew the Kim he was seeing was for real and that she'd come to save him.
For the first time since his abduction, Ron felt hopeful. He just prayed Kim had enough money to outbid Shego.
IX.
Though the synthodrones were on board, at their stations, and awaiting orders and Enterprise's saucer section was dead in space, Lore was not pleased. He sighed as he realized he was going to have to determine how to safely integrate the pan-dimensional vortex inducer into the ship's systems.
He was glad he had carefully reviewed Drakken's proposed method for doing so before he had followed the self-described evil genius' instructions. The android had concluded that what the blue-skinned mad scientist had suggested would not only have failed to open a stable wormhole but would have torn a hole in the very fabric of space and time. Enterprise and all aboard her would have been utterly and instantly annihilated.
Lore shook his head and muttered about how 'time doesn't grow on trees' and the need to 'do the job yourself if you want it done right' as he began to review the starship's schematics.
X.
"Four bars of gold-pressed latinum," the auctioneer said, no longer able to contain his surprise at the price the mutilated human was commanding. "Do I hear four bars and ten strips?" he asked, enjoying the competition between the two women.
Kim nodded. With a smile, the auctioneer announced, "Four bars ten strips. Do I hear five?"
The slaver's eyes lit up and his grin spread as he acknowledged a bid of five bars. The board once again changed, recognizing the presence of a new bidder. A third party had inserted himself into the proceedings, much to the Orionisi's pleasure. It appeared as if the scrawny chef would fetch a handsome price indeed.
Worf growled and searched out the new party, a Ferengi with especially large ears and unusually beady eyes.
"Excuse me," Worf growled.
The Ferengi looked up at the Klingon, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
"What do you want, Klingon?"
"I want you to stop bidding."
"Why would I do that? I need a chef."
"You also need your legs."
The Ferengi looked at Worf dubiously. "What are you talking about?"
"My employer wishes to buy the human for herself. If you deny her this she will be very angry."
"So what," the Ferengi replied dismissively. "Why should I even care, Klingon?"
"Because," Worf said with relish, "I will have to shatter your legs to mollify her."
The Ferengi laughed nervously. "Nice try, Klingon. You wouldn't do that. It wouldn't be honorable."
Worf laid a strong hand on the Ferengi's shoulder. "Look carefully, trader. Do you see me wearing the uniform of a warrior?"
"Hmm. You're not …" he muttered as he realized Worf was wearing what looked like a black commando suit.
"That is because I am not a warrior. I am an independent contractor. Honor is not my highest priority; pleasing my employer, who pays me handsomely, is. Which means I will gladly break both of your legs. Slowly and painfully."
The Ferengi's eyes darted about. "You know what? I think I should look at what else is on offer before I commit myself to this slave. I think I'll withdraw from this auction."
"A wise decision," the Klingon said as he watched the trader end his participation in the bidding.
Worf returned to Kim and Rufus. "You need only outbid Shego."
Kim looked at Worf, wondering what he had said to the Ferengi. She decided not to ask any questions.
"Thanks," Kim said as she entered a new bid. "I think it's time to end this party."
"I have a bid of … ten bars of gold-pressed latinum!" the auctioneer announced gleefully.
Kim cast a glance at Shego, who looked back through slitted eyes.
"Do I have another bid?" the auctioneer asked.
"Going once, going twice …"
Shego raised her hand.
"… I have a new bid of twenty-five. Do I hear thirty?"
Kim nodded.
"Thirty-five."
Shego raised her hand.
"Forty. Do I hear fifty?" he asked, looking at Kim. She nodded as she entered her bid.
"I have fif– one hundred bars of gold-pressed latinum," the auctioneer said with amazement. "Do I hear …"
Shego, furious, indicated that she would not be raising her bid.
"… going once, going twice, going three times. The one-eye human cook is sold for one hundred bars of gold-pressed latinum," the man announced with relish.
Shego growled as Kim, escorted by Worf and Rufus, made her way up to the block. She watched with displeasure as the slaver handed Kim the control unit for the pain inducer on Ron's neck. Very annoyed, Shego turned on her heel and began stalking out of the mart. As she reached the door, however, she had an idea and her scowl became a wicked smile. What she wanted to do would require Rayna's acquiescence. But if the Orionisi diplomat and power broker concurred, Shego might not only own Ron, but Kim, too, before the night was over.
XI.
Tom Carter lay on the floor of his quarters screaming, begging for someone to help as the creature from Ceti Alpha V crawled out of his ear. His suffering soon intensified as he found he was unable to control his movements.
While Carter suffered, nearly 1000 other sentient beings aboard Enterprise's saucer section grappled with their own loss of their motor functions. They had known this would happen. Lore had left internal communications alone, allowing Picard to communicate with his crew. He told them what was happening, warning everyone to sit or lie down, thus forestalling the possibility of anyone falling from a ladder or gangway and suffering an injury that could not be treated.
Jean-Luc Picard was among the last to succumb to the effects of the toxic airborne gas. Sitting in his command chair, unable to move, he slowly slipped into a befogged state, unsure of where he was, left only with a feeling of inescapable dread, abject failure, and raging fury.
XII.
Kim took a dazed Ron by the hand and led him to the floor.
As he descended the steps, he looked at Kim, then Worf and Rufus. Then he looked around the bustling emporium and winced as another captive was led up to the auction block. The last few hours had left him feeling rattled. While Kim's presence brought him tremendous comfort, he was still on edge from Rayna's threats and attempted seduction, Yori's surprising ambush, the beatings, and the auction that had almost made him Shego's slave. He wondered just how many sessions he'd need with Deanna Troi before he could put all of this behind him.
Kim saw Ron's disturbed features. She stopped and reached up to his ravaged cheek. "It's so over, Ron. It's going to be okay. You're safe now."
Kim was about to hug Ron when he stopped her.
"Not here," he said. "I don't ever want to associate a KP hug with this," he added, gesturing to indicate the slave mart.
Kim smiled and gently squeezed his hand, pleased when he reciprocated the gesture. "Come on. Let's ace this place."
Ron was more than amenable to Kim's suggestion, knowing he wouldn't begin to relax until they had left Taigus. Surrounded by holding pens filled with miserable captives and surly Orionisi slavers, he was still feeling tense and waiting for something else to go wrong.
As if on cue, Shego appeared with a large contingent of armed Orionisi.
"They're the ones," she said as the men quickly surrounded the party. "They're all Starfleet, here to disrupt the slave market's operations and free so-called Federation citizens."
"What do you say to these charges?" one of the men demanded.
Kim stepped forward. "I don't know what you're talking about," she answered. "I came to buy a slave," she said, pointing at Ron, "and I did. Now get out of our way so we can go, please and thank you."
"A likely story, Princess," Shego sneered. "Where's your pixie scout uniform?"
"I resigned," Kim snapped. "Satisfied?"
"You really expect me to believe that? You've got undercover written all over that innocent little face of yours, Punkin'," Shego said with a sneer. "Take them away," she barked.
Ron's heart began racing as he looked at Kim, who was staring defiantly at Shego; he winced as he once again imagined a pain inducer attached to his wife's neck. He wanted to help her, protect her – he needed to – but he didn't know how. Even with Worf and Rufus providing backup, he knew they were outnumbered – and outgunned. Though the Orionisi weren't carrying phasers or disruptors, which would have been rendered useless by the dampening field that enveloped the slave market, they were carrying fearsome weapons that looked like a cross between an old-fashioned Earth halberd and a Vulcan lirpa. Ron knew there was no way Kim, Worf, Rufus, and he could fight off Shego and her troops while they were unarmed.
Man, Ron thought, I really wish I had that funky magic sword right now.
XIII.
Lore could deal with two mute synthodrones; he was actually fond of Stan and Ollie, both of whom still resembled Romulans – but a shipful of faceless, voiceless simulacra gave him the heebie jeebies. He had tried to deal with his discomfort by ordering his faceless drones to take on human appearance. When they failed to respond, he demanded they morph into Romulans, then Klingons. He even suggested they make themselves look like Bolians, as ridiculous as he thought a crew of blue-skinned, bald-headed men would be. All of his attempts ended the same way: the synthodrones failed to change. As annoyed as Lore was, however, he really wasn't surprised that Drakken's creations would somehow be faulty.
Unable to change his troops' appearance yet confident in their ability to monitor the secondary hull's systems, Lore retreated from the battle bridge to an adjacent conference room to study the ship's schematics and the vortex inducer. Drakken had planned on hooking the device into the main engine, not realizing that the PDVI, directly channeling that much energy, would immediately go critical and destroy the ship and the surrounding sector. What Lore needed was a conduit that would regulate the flow of energy to and from the device while allowing the maximum amount of its output to be channeled through the main deflector array.
He sat in front of the monitor, his lips pursed, his fingers steepled, studying the pictures of Enterprise's innards, determined to find the solution to this problem.
XIV.
"Ron! Call for the Sword," Kim exclaimed.
She didn't know why she encouraged Ron to do that since the bat'leth was securely stowed on board Calypso. But something, some voice – some voice that sounded like Kahless' – prompted her.
Everyone looked at her in surprise. Shego and the Orionisi were momentarily confused. That moment was all the time Kim and her crew needed to make a break for freedom.
Kim flipped her legs up and kicked out at one of the weapon-wielding Orionisi. Worf, meanwhile, wrestled one of his distracted captors off and then managed to throw the other one into one of the Orionisi holding Rufus. Rufus, in turn, bit down on the arm of the second man holding him; the guard howled with pain as the naked mole rat's giant buck tooth drove into his flesh.
Ron was paralyzed, unsure what to do. He didn't know how to fight ripped Orionisi slavers. He watched, confused, as his friends fought the Orionisi. He could see they were losing ground. He wanted to help but didn't know what to do. So he did what Kim asked of him, as whacked as it sounded.
"Yo, magic sword! Come to Rondo," he called out.
He stared in wonder as he watched the sword materialize before him. Ron didn't know what to do as he was still being restrained by his guards. But Kim, who had wriggled free, grasped the weapon. With the bat'leth in hand, she spun and struck the first of Ron's guards in the head with the back of the blade's handle while Rufus, seeing what was happening, leapt up and pulled the other man away from Ron.
Ron, now free, blinked, looking confused.
"Head in the game, Ron!" Kim ordered. "Catch!"
Ron instinctively responded to Kim's authoritative voice. He stretched out his hands, ready to receive the Sword. The moment the wood of the handle touched Ron's palms, he felt a jolt of energy, far more powerful than any he'd felt before, course through his body. He didn't know why, but he felt a surge of confidence, unsure of whether it was from Kim's strong presence or the strange feeling that he somehow had the experience of hundreds of generations of Klingon warriors at his disposal.
He flipped the blade and flashed a wicked grin at the nearest of the Orionisi. "Dude, you are going down!" he exulted as he gracefully hooked the man's weapon with the blade. He saw Worf was open and used one of the Sword's tips to flick the halberd to him. Ron then spun around and brought the back of the weapon down on the Orionisi's shoulder, doubling him over. He then brought his knee up into the man's chin and watched him stagger. Before he could finish him off, Rufus grabbed him by the arm and threw him into two of his comrades.
Shego watched as the momentum shifted from her forces to her would-be slave. Once again, events were slipping away from her. Shego was tired of being bested. She didn't care if her Starfleet nemesis had a scar that would reduce her resale value. What was happening now was personal. She was going to defeat Kim whatever the cost. Shego slowly edged her way to her opponent, maneuvering so that she could cut off the redhead from the larger group. "Ready to play, Princess?" Shego asked as she fired up her gloved hands.
Kim, feeling like she'd made a rookie mistake, swore under her breath as she realized she'd been detached from the larger melee. She realized she'd have to fight and decided to make the best of the situation. "Why not?" Kim answered insouciantly. "I could use a bit of a break from the varsity squad."
Shego glared at her. "Watch it …"
"Or what? You'll try to sell me? So not going to happen. Not now. Not ever," Kim said. "Bring it," she added, having assumed a fighting stance.
"If you insist …" Shego replied with a grin as she lashed out at Kim with a double punch and a kick.
TBC …