For the next fifteen standard Earth minutes, Meara gave the spectators a pretty good show, if she did think so herself. After the Targ's betrayal, her opponent's rage was the undoing of her. The Targ, for his part, had paid the ultimate sacrifice and although Meara wasn't one for sentimentality, it had reminded her of her first similar encounter and she felt a fleeting pang of regret. The Targ had lunged for the Klingon's ankles as she and Meara barrelled - screaming obscenities and battle cries - towards each other. Meara had taken decent advantage of the momentary distraction provided by the animal, by using the Targ's body to propel and launch herself over the shoulder of the Klingon, allowing the pointed edge of her Bat'leth coupled with the pull of gravity, to leave a gash halfway down her back, rolling away from the move. Considerably weakened, but by no means out of the fight, the Klingon proceeded to give Meara the fight of her life, Meara allowing a few well-earned punches, kicks and cuts to her own body. Her goal was not to humiliate the Klingons, especially at their own game. That would certainly not bode well for Enterprise and her crew… At one point, the Klingon thought she had her, but a countermove by Meara, involving a Vulcan Death Grip and the force of gravity on the oversized Warrior was her undoing. She was out cold.
The crowd were understandably enraged, but more so at this show of weakness by one of their own. None could understand. Was it sorcery? Were these humans some kind of metabeings? Many wanted nothing more than to converge on the arena and rip the Human limb from limb… Meanwhile, the Chancellor, Kolos and the other High Council members looked on. This was not how events had been expected to unfold. Kolos for his part, had learned not to underestimate Humanity. It had taken many months of discussion with the High Council to accept his proposal of meeting with them. The Chancellor had been not wholly prepared for what he had witnessed. "SILENCE!" he bellowed above the din. But the crowd were still hurling Klingon curses at her like they were rocks.
Meara raised her head to look at the Council. Her Bat'leth followed. This was the moment of truth. She spoke her first words - in Klingon - to the gathered crowd since entering the arena, loud and clear above the din. "Victory to the future Qo'nos/Earth Alliance!" Again, silence did reign supreme. Archer and his crew took a collective breath.
The speech that followed would define the two worlds' slow but steady steps into the future.
"I am a Warrior. I stand before the mightiest of the Klingon Empire, humbled and honoured to share that title, representing my people in embracing the Klingon Way. Like Klingon society, not all humans are born warriors. Like us, you have your teachers, your politicians, your doctors, your scientists, your advocates. But even within the body of each of these, sits the beating heart of a Warrior, forged in fire and tempered with steel. We are worlds apart and yet we share a common vision. The future of our children and the protection of our identity, our way of life. For that purpose, Warriors will always be needed. While Klingons find honour by death in battle, humans find honour in a well-lived life filled with purpose. Whether that purpose be to teach, to heal, to learn, to guide, inside each of us, is the beating, burning heart of a Warrior. The bloodlust comes and goes. The desire to dominate sometimes overwhelms us, but ultimately, we are the protectors of what we hold most precious to our worlds."
Meara dropped on one knee and bowed her head as she laid her sword gently down before her. She looked up at the High Council members again.
"Allow humanity the honour of fighting for and defending our mutual interests side-by-side with the Klingon Empire, against those who would see the end of a galaxy united in its diversity."
"That was one hell of a speech. Ensign Shaw." Hayes was looking at her like he might explode with pride. Despite the mutual feeling he shared with Hayes on the subject, Malcolm was tense. This was the part where things really could go wrong.
The members of the High Council, some Klingon dignitaries and the Earth guests of the Empire had converged on an annex to the Great Hall to share a meal in honour of the occasion. Two Klingon Warriors were present for every member of Enterprise's Security detail, a situation not lost on either Reed or Hayes. Their party, their rules, supposed Malcolm.
"Thank you, Major. Just telling it like it is." She stood flanked by Reed and Hayes. In front of her, Phlox was performing a bioscan and gave her a hypospray to take a little of the sting out of her wounds. Archer came up behind them, "I think there's a long way to go before we can get a handle on what the "is" actually IS, Ensign, but you made a damn fine stab at the beginnings of a definition. From the scowl on his face, I'd say the Chancellor was grudgingly impressed with your performance and your speech." He turned to Phlox. "All well, Doctor?" "It would seem so, Captain." "Excellent," he replied. I'd like you, Hoshi and the Enterprise Security to return to the ship. Half your contingent as well, Major," Archer said, with a nod to Hayes. "No need for any of you to suffer the next part," he said with a slight grimace, as he stepped past them to join the Chancellor and Kolos at the Head Table, while his remaining contingent took their places on one of the flanking tables.
Reed looked at the food and, were it possible, went an even paler shade than he was currently sporting. Hayes caught the look and gave him a brotherly slap on the back. "Come on, Lieutenant. New life and new civilisations, as you Fleeters are so fond of saying. Where's your sense of adventure?" His predicament wasn't lost on Meara. During Starfleet Academy, Malcolm could barely hold down anything more exotic than a vegetable curry. "I may have left it back on Enterprise, along with your sense of humour, Major," he replied with more than a hint of annoyance. "I reckon you can get away with sampling the warnog, Lieutenant, and maybe the pipius claw," Meara said with a smile, "Won't kill ya, but you might be queasy for a day or two." "Very reassuring, thank you Ensign," he said as they took their seats.
Once thanks were given for the banquet and the room was settled - or as settled as a roomful of Klingons could be on a first diplomatic contact - Chancellor M'Rek graced Archer with his attention. "So, Captain," he began, as he loaded his plate with food, "what exactly do your - Starfleet - and Earth hope to really achieve with this exercise?" Archer had been briefed by Kolos on the nature of the Chancellor. He could be fair but demanded almost grovelling respect to keep him on side. "I hope my Ensign made that clear, Chancellor. Earth would not wish to make an enemy of the might of the Klingon Empire. We are new to exploration and since beginning have learned much about ourselves - our strengths and our weaknesses." Kolos was listening to the exchange with a slight smile. Knowing what little he did of Archer, he understood he possessed as much pride as a Klingon, so this display of deference must have been sticking in his gut deeper than a D'k tahg… M'Rek gave a grudging "Humph" in response as he stuffed his face with food. As the conversation went on, the Klingons sitting opposite the Enterprise crew were goading one of their comrades. Meara could pick up what they were saying, ever diligent in the needs of her friend, she had thought that the most delicate looking (to a Klingon anyway) human male amongst them would become a target. One of the larger Klingons rose from his seat and was heading straight for Malcolm. Meara placed the anti-nausea hypo against Malcolm's thigh. Malcolm felt the pressure of the hypo and before he could react, felt the looming presence of the Klingon.
"Were you Klingon, you wouldn't have made it past your first day breathing life, puny human." Malcolm put his hand on Hayes' shoulder who was making a move to stand and threw him a warning look. This was his fight. He stood. "I believe my student proved to you today, that size is irrelevant in our species when it comes to battle," he spat back with equal disdain. He then lifted his cup of ale and drained it in one go before slamming it down and leaning forward, as the Klingon leaned down to meet his gaze. "The female? You are her mentor?" A single nod was the response. The Klingon leaned back and exhaled a raucous laugh. "Then today, is not your day to die," he said turning back to his place, "I hope I have the pleasure of meeting you on the battlefield, mentor." "Then it will be a good day to die," replied Malcolm. The Klingon laughed again and returned to his place to tell his comrades of the exchange.
He sat back down, keeping his eyes on the Klingon before grabbing the jug of ale to refill his cup. Hayes' and Meara's expressions said it all. "What?" he asked.