The Bridge: Act III
The Klingons in attendance at the dinner had been bloodthirsty enough before Diana had agreed to fight one of them for her honor. The moment the Klingon Commander dropped onto the table, visibly ravaged by some affliction, the Klingons were whipped into a frenzy of angry shouting and accusations.
First, they started shouting at each other in Klingon, claiming one house or another had done such a misdeed. Another would shout in return that the only honor lost was to Toproc's house, because a Klingon stupid enough to be poisoned would go to Grethor, the Klingon version of hell, if Nyota remembered correctly.
She had expected some level of concern for the ambassador, but there didn't seem to be any. They were all too concerned with each other and who could have done the deed.
That was when Motar, who had been ready to challenge Diana a moment before, turned his attention to Spock and Uhura. "Where is she?!" He snarled.
Uhura turned to where she thought Diana had been beside her, only to spot the ambassador far ahead of them, running down an alley. "Spock, come on!" She grabbed at her partner, pointing to where Diana had just been.
Spock's Vulcan physiology gave him enhanced strength compared to humans, but put him on par with Klingons. While Uhura didn't have a problem taking on alien species that were physically stronger than her, in the interest of time, she let Spock take the lead. He cleared a path for them with ease, and the two of them pursued Diana as fast as they could.
The alleyways of the Klingon colony were winding, but strangely easy to navigate. Everything seemed to still be built on a grid formation, so as long as they could see Diana in the alley - or at one point on the rooftops - they could keep up with her.
She didn't hear the Klingon warriors pursue them. Presumably, they lost them at some point in the chase.
A dull thud and crack of stone in one of the alleyways ahead of them. By the time she and Spock rounded the corner, they spotted Diana with her lasso around the waist of a Klingon warrior, holding him firmly. They had somehow managed to arrive between the two of them.
At least… Nyota thought he was a Klingon warrior… until he suddenly seemed to shift back into being a human. She'd never seen anything like it. It was almost as if she'd looked into a pond just before someone threw a rock into it. Everything distorted and shuddered before refocusing.
The man was still in the Klingon warrior's clothes, but he was a Caucasian male with brown hair. He was about as nondescript and unassuming as a man could be, yet in the Khitomer colony, he stood out like a sore thumb.
That alone would have been enough to give Nyota pause. But, the look of familiarity on Diana's face… that was another thing altogether.
"Stay back, both of you." Diana said, her lasso tightly wound around in her grip as she held the man fast. She never took her eyes off of him, but she was clearly addressing the two new spectators. "And do not listen to a word that comes from his mouth."
"Oh, come now, Diana, is that any way to treat family?" Nyota furrowed her brow. His voice set her nerves on edge, although she couldn't place why. His voice's pitch sounded smooth, like honey, and his words were clipped with the royal pronunciation of a British dialect from Earth. But, something in his tone held an undercurrent of something. Her aural sensitivity was unparalleled, and there was something in his voice that gave Diana's warning additional gravitas. They could not trust him.
"Just because we share the same father does not make you family, Ares." Diana growled, her jaw set. Nyota had never seen Diana quite like this. She was as taut as the lasso, tension evident in her muscles and her razor-sharp gaze focused on the man in her custody. "I should have known..." She said, a bit regretful. She shook her head ruefully. "I should have known you would have orchestrated such strife across the galaxy. You've been behind the Romulan Empire and their aggression, haven't you? Have you been steering the Klingons towards war as well?"
Nyota balked. "Diana, are you saying this is the Greek god of war?" Diana hadn't spoken very much about the other gods. Even after Apollo arrived, their conversations had remained on the present, not the past. Yet now, she and Spock stood only a stone's throw away from the great, not-so-mythical architect of earth's turmoil.
"Yes." Diana simply replied, brooking no argument. If Nyota had ever doubted that Diana was a member of some god-like race, she found herself unable to justify those doubts any longer. Nyota simply believed her. It was as simple as breathing. Diana radiated trust and honesty.
So if this was Ares, then she had every reason to warn Spock and Uhura away.
"If this is another member of your family, logic suggests that he could still harm us, even from a reasonable distance." Spock remarked. To the outside observer, he probably seemed typically cool and logical. But, she could hear the faint hint of concern in her lover's voice. She also noticed the nearly imperceptible way that he stepped in front of her and gently steered her back half a step. It wasn't enough to suggest he would shield her, but enough that should Ares try anything, he would bear the brunt of it.
"The Lasso of Hestia is a relic of the gods. It can contain him in this state." Diana stated. "At least, it did when I last saw you, brother. When he returned to Man's World, dealt in weapons and orchestrated conflict after conflict. He was known as Ari Buchanan, then, and his powers had diminished. But, how much of the ambrosia of war have you partaken in your days since the Eugenics War? How long have you fostered discord and pain?"
"Far less than you think, Diana. And I would be more than willing to explain it all to you if you simply release me." Ares said with a clipped, cool tone. Nyota could hear exasperation, but it could have easily been for show.
"And let you unleash the hell you did upon the Man's World?" Diana gripped the lasso tighter, and Nyota saw something in the ambassador snap. "Did you finally get what you wanted, brother?" She hissed, tugging him forward a few steps as her voice suddenly hitched higher, revealing the rage simmering within.
Without thinking, Nyota reached for Spock's hand, holding it tight. Diana reminded her of Spock at times: great emotional depth, hidden by the way they chose to see the world. Spock chose to see it in logic and rationality. Diana chose to see the world through her great love and compassion. But, it didn't stop the anger from festering in old wounds.
"How did it feel to finally achieve that which you so desperately sought? Were you proud of the destruction you wrought?" Diana yanked him closer, voice growing louder and louder as she continued. "How did it feel to be responsible for the death of everything I helped create in Man's World? To send hundreds of millions of innocents to their death simply so that you could feed your gullet! How did it feel, warmonger?!" When Ares didn't answer her, Diana finally gripped at his tunic and lifted him clear off the ground. "I compel you to tell the truth."
The ferocity, the ring of truth and authority in her voice was unlike anything Nyota had ever heard. She even felt Spock's fingers clasp around hers a little tighter. It had been enough to strike him as well.
When Ares spoke, compelled by either the lasso or Diana, that air of cleverness and calm had left him. He sounded hollowed. "I hated myself…." He said softly, staring back at Diana. "Because I wasn't there to make sure they did it right."
Diana pulled back, letting him go as she recoiled with nothing less than revulsion. "What?" The word left her mouth as a whisper, but it was chilled as Nyota felt.
Ares caught himself, grabbing at the lasso as it to both steady his balance and to keep Diana's attention on him. "I survive on war, Diana. I've brought many a society to the brink of destruction, only to pull them back so that they would give me what I needed. I want endless conflict, and instead, the foolish idiots bombed themselves into wanting peace. By the time humanity reached that point, we were long gone. Our dear sister Athena - " He drew the name out like it turned to ash in his mouth. "Decided that should we linger on Earth much longer, we would all be forgotten. By the time the Augments crafted their war, I was already busy creating what I thought would be the perfect planet of worshippers when their arms race brought them to mutually assured destruction. No worshippers, no godhood."
Nyota's heart twisted painfully as she suddenly remembered the way Apollo had spoken about worship, about needing followers. There had been such disdain, such self-loathing. And for Ares… it seemed to be nothing but petulance and wounded pride. He didn't care for humanity, but only for what it could do for him.
"You… you monster." The words slipped from Nyota's mouth before she could stop herself. "You destroyed an entire civilization and all you care about is how they would have benefitted you?"
Ares turned his gaze to hers. It had been a mistake to call him out, as now he had given her a smile that held no warmth, only flippant disregard. "Do you care about every ant you crush underfoot, Nyota Uhura? It's a simple hazard of the genetics, my dear. All gods cannot survive without worship. Well…" He paused, shrugging and turning back to Diana. "Almost all gods."
Diana's hand that held the lasso started to lower to her side, giving a bit of slack but not entirely freeing him. "If I thought I could kill you and make it stick, I would." She finally said, a dark edge in her voice suggesting once against that Amazons did not simply train in the art of war to understand the warrior, but because they were just as capable of rendering judgement.
"You killed him once before?" Spock asked. He had loosened his grip on her fingers, but did not pull away. He was still worried.
Diana nodded. "To end Man's first World War. But, as long as there is blood lust among mortals…" She closed her eyes for a moment. "There will always be a god of war."
"Yes, well, I have Dr. Minerva and yourself to thank for that.. How is she, by the way?" The name he used made Diana visibly flinch. Whoever she was, Dr. Minerva was a painful association for her. "I never truly thanked her for bringing you to that temple of Morpheus. I would have helped her, freed her from the curse of the cheetah that Urzkartaga inflicted upon her, but she didn't care for the terms of my arrangement - "
Diana's fist connected with his jaw and sent the god staggering to his knees. "You will keep Barbara Ann out of this. Tell me why you're here."
Ares shook his head, as if the blow had affected him more than he wanted to admit. "I learned my lesson after my failed experiment. I moved to Eminiar VII, because I needed to rebuild my power base." He sighed, tugging at the lasso. "Release me, Diana, I've no wish to bore you with needless details."
Diana's gripped tightened once more on the lasso, and she tugged him upwards so that he had to raise up on his knees. "Then, bore me. If you truly have been away from earth for two centuries, then you will explain why you risk discovery by starting a war with the Federation and the Romulans."
Ares huffed, glancing back at the two Federation officers as if they would somehow help him. "They would know just as well as I could tell you. After all, the Enterprise is the reason I shifted my attention to the Klingons."
Spock had put the pieces together before she had, but Nyota had recognized the name of the planet. She couldn't remember why until he spoke. "Eminiar VII was engaged in a computer-simulated war with its neighboring planet, Vendikar. Neither side actually fought, but casualties were executed through a selection process. When the Enterprise arrived to the planet in 2261, the captain destroyed the computer hubs that dictated the outcome of simulated battles. The Eminiarians and Vendikarians were forced to take a cease fire, lest an actual conflict break out once more." Spock quirked an eyebrow, scrutinizing Ares. "You take responsibility for the conflict?"
"Gladly, Mister Spock." Ares said with a chuckle. "It was the perfect ritual, you see. No actual concept of peace to be achieved, and hundreds of millions of mortals dying in the name of war. My war. And it was truly endless. The algorithms were designed to keep a maintainable population on both planets and feed my power. Then, you had to go and ruin it all, and I was forced to find something new."
"You are truly deranged." Diana's voice seemed nearly sympathetic. Nearly.
"I am the god of war." Ares laughed. "I tried to reason with you, but you never understood. All mortals need conflict. It is how they grow, and in turn, I must lead them to that greener pasture."
"A remarkably short-sighted view for such a long-lived individual." Spock responded with an edge of emotion to his voice. Nyota rested her hand on his back for a moment. "What is your reasoning for infiltrating the Klingon Empire? Another endless war?"
"Yes, but on a more internal scale. Klingons already worship honor and battle, so I've been drumming up conflict between the Great Houses. They don't want this peace accord with the Federation because the two factions involved were fighting each other. I don't know why the Romulans turned on them." He motioned to the lasso. "I'm telling you the truth, Diana, I've nothing to do with it. Romulans are treacherous, difficult to lure into the positions I need them to be for a good war."
Nyota couldn't tell if Diana necessarily believed him, but she didn't get a chance to question him more.
Footsteps were rapidly approaching, smatterings of Klingon bouncing off the alley walls. The delegation had caught up and would be here any moment.
"Even if I believed you, why kill the ambassador?"
Ares went from calm to slightly more panicked as the footsteps approached. "I didn't. But, if you don't release me, they will realize who I am. Do you know what Klingons do to their gods, Diana?"
Nyota scoffed. "The Klingons killed their gods. You're running."
Ares turned towards Uhura again, but this time, there was no panic. Only petulant anger that suggested he was far less reasonable than he pretended to be. "I was letting my work play out. I wasn't running." He cast one more glance back at Diana, who seemed unmoved by his plea. "What's two centuries amongst immortals, Diana? You know that they can't kill me. And if they see what you can do, your precious chance for peace will be gone."
Diana wavered, then finally pulled the lasso from its magical hold. No sooner than the golden shimmer faded from the rope back on her waist, Ares had changed from the human man they'd been talking to back to the non-descript Klingon warrior.
The rest of the delegation, Colonel Worf at the lead of the pack, came pouring out into the alleyways, disruptors held high.
Motar, clearly incensed, raised his hand and pointed at Diana, snarling as he did so. "Take the Federation petaQ into custody! She killed the Commander!"
The hearing did not seem to be going in Jim's favor. To Commander Ayala's credit, his advocate had done one helluva job questioning his crew. Their testimony spoke both to their character and to his.
But, Jim could read a room, and so far, he wasn't too fond of what he saw on those Admiral's faces. After all, they'd been ready to hand him the Vice Admiral position after the incident with Edison. But, by encouraging, or even remotely supporting Diana's plan to free the slaves, there was a very real chance that any alliance with the Klingons had gone south. They would be looking for a scapegoat.
None of that was entirely surprising. Jim knew the score on this kind of thing. What was surprising was who seemed to be ready to launch him out of a torpedo tube into demotion and court martial: Admiral Kent.
Jim couldn't tell what Conner's play was here. Even now, as Jim stood before the entire admiralty board, prepared to deliver his closing statement before waiting for their decision, he couldn't tell what the admiral wanted from him. Not for the first time since Jaylah had testified, Jim wondered if he had been played.
He'd always considered that Admiral Kent was an ally to Starfleet and to Diana, but Jim was starting to wonder if his loyalty to family was winning out. Maybe it had been misplaced guilt that he had held back on information about the Eugenics War. Maybe it was that he simply didn't think Jim had Diana's best interests at heart, or wasn't a captain worthy of his command.
But, Jim didn't think that was it.
He could tell that there was some level of political maneuvering happening among those faces before him. Something - or someone - was out of place. But, what was it?
Jim found himself watching Admiral Cale as she took a seat beside Conner.
He'd never seen her before the hearing. Her insignia was indicative of Starfleet Intelligence, but Conner had never suggested any sort of affinity for Marcus's old position. So, why were they chummy now? And more importantly, why would she care about Jim's career? What possible reason could Conner have for getting closer to Starfleet Intelligence that Diana would care about?
The realization struck him with the same force as the gavel hit the table before the Fleet Admiral.
"This hearing is called to order." The Fleet Admiral remarked.
He reeled for a moment .Admiral Hackett was missing. The only admiral outside of Kent who had had any interaction with Diana, who had custody of Vanessa Katalepis and had been avoiding the ambassador for weeks.
And a new Intelligence Admiral was there in his place.
What was going on?
"Captain Kirk," The Fleet Admiral said his name with such precision, he turned to face her with momentarily wide eyes. "You have asked to address the admiralty board before we render our decision. Your request has been granted. Proceed."
He stared at her for another long moment before he blinked away his stupor, turning to focus on the admirals before him. He'd had an hour or so to prepare his remarks. Even after Sulu, Bones and Scotty had testified, Jim had found himself constantly circling back to Jaylah's risky reprimand. It could have cost her career, but she'd demanded their attention nonetheless.
It reminded him very poignantly of Diana, a lifetime away, telling off the war council with ease.
She had been right then. Jaylah was right now. And this time, Jim wasn't going to sit back and let the admirals steamroll over him.
"Thank you, Fleet Admiral." Jim finally began. Thankfully, although he was rattled, he was nothing but honest respect and cool composure to the outside observer. "Admirals, as you know, my career in Starfleet began in a less than relaxed fashion. I thought I was signing up for adventure and a chance to make a name for myself. But, that's not what it means to be the captain of a starship. Chris Pike taught me that to be a captain means sacrifice, it means selflessness, and it means bravery even in the face of certain death. And not because there's glory in it: but, because that's what is necessary for the greater good.
"It means saving lives, those of my crew and those who need help but may not be able to ask for it." Jim took a long, hard look around the room. As he continued, he found himself suddenly aware of the fact that Hackett wasn't the only face missing from the room. There were several new admirals on the board. While he had been off on the Enterprise's new tour, there had been a changing of the guard. Subtle, but impossible to miss. If he had suddenly lost favor with the admiralty board, he'd have to play things by the books. He'd have to make sure his plea was ironclad and directly in line with Starfleet's charter.
"Before this hearing, I gave you my full records on the Orion Pirate Syndicate." He continued, calculating new words on the fly, but making it seem as if he'd rehearsed it for days. "And you have the full extent of every mission I've had with Ambassador Prince. I know it would be easy to say that I should have stopped the Ambassador or worse, that I should have left Jaylah. I understand the political ramifications of my decision, but I have never thought twice about helping people. If we're meant to be a beacon of light, exploring the final frontier, then that means we have to be the stewards of that gift. What good is the Federation if we ignore our principles in order to curry political favor with the Klingons?
"If you want to demote me, I will accept that decision, just as I accepted it when I interfered on Nibiru. But, the Prime Directive isn't at play here. The Orion Syndicate are not only warp-capable, they run circles around our ships. We don't have a military advantage over them, and maybe we shouldn't. Because we're not a military organization. We were asked to keep the peace, but if keeping the peace means it's only easier to hear the screams of those suffering in that deafening silence of space, then maybe we don't deserve the guardianship we've accepted." Jim spotted one of the admirals he didn't recognize. He seemed a little less hostile than he had a moment ago. It seemed to be working.
"In my time with the Ambassador, I've had the privilege of seeing and learning about what drove a group of earth's heroes before the Eugenics War." Jim knew it was a calculated risk, turning his attention and addressing his dialogue directly to Conner, but it was the only way that Jim could evaluate the admiral's mindset. "I learned about why the Justice League was formed, and more importantly, I've seen Diana live up to those expectations. She never asks more of anyone than she's willing to give of herself. And if she tells me that people are suffering and we should do something about it, then, I'm sorry. I'm going to do it. Because that's what we're supposed to do.
"Asking me to leave one crewmember behind, or suggesting that I should have extracted her and left thousands of prisoners to a life of slavery and pain isn't what we're supposed to do." Conner seemed unmoved. Jim tried to keep his honest disappointment and worry out of his voice. He wanted to see the best of this situation, but now, he wasn't sure Conner had ever been an ally at all. "And if the races we interact with can't grasp that above all else, Starfleet and the Federation exist to create peaceful coexistence between all races, then we have an obligation to teach them that. And it might take decades - hell, centuries - but if that's not the point of the whole thing…" Jim turned to look at a few other admirals. He focused on one that seemed most attentive. "Then, with all due respect, what is?"
Jim took a moment, both for effect and to make one final determination on how he wanted to steer their thoughts. This was it. If he was going to change his mind, now would be the time. But, there was no turning back now. He clasped his hands in front of him, thinking back to his days in the academy. A few of these admirals had seen him graduate. And the new ones… Jim would learn one way or the other what they were trying to accomplish. Even if he lost his rank today, he wouldn't stop until he understood where Hackett had gone and why all of them were so keen to turn on Jim.
"Now, I've never made it a secret of who I am or why I still sit in that chair." He said at last, careful to keep most of the ego out of his voice. "But, in all honesty, if you don't understand why I chose as a captain to get Jaylah and stop Verex III while there was an opportunity, then I don't know whose career you've been watching. I've been the same kind of captain I was when I walked into the Kobayashi Maru." Jim turned his attention to Admiral Cale, the truly unknown element out of all of this. She had replaced Hackett, and she was a person of interest to Kent. He wanted to know what kind of an officer she was. So, he looked her in the eye and silently dared her to challenge him. "There is no such thing as a no-win scenario, and there's no such thing as a worthless rescue. If even one person asks for my help, I will always give it. And if that's not who a Starfleet captain should be, then take the ship, reassign my crew. But you will never be able to take the feeling of knowing thousands of people are safe today, because of me. Because I did the right thing."
Cale smirked. Jim felt his jaw set as he did everything in his power to keep his tone professional. But, in that moment, she had set herself apart from the others. She was callous and she didn't care about the Enterprise or its captain.
She just became Jim's priority.
Glancing away from Cale, he cast his gaze around the room one last time as he finished. "I hope that Starfleet's principles haven't changed and I hope you'll review my actions in the spirit in which they were taken. Thank you for your time."
With that, Jim Kirk stepped away from the admirals and walked back out into the hallway. For all he knew, he was walking away from his career.
At this point, there was nothing left to do but wait. Bones and Sulu were waiting for him outside the hearing doors. Presumably, Scotty had talked Jaylah away from the building after her testimony and promised her a few drinks. At least, he certainly hoped so.
"How'd it go?" Bones asked, his expression as cloudy as the San Francisco skyline had been all day.
Jim shrugged, a hand idly reaching into his pocket for his communicator. Again, he should have been worried about himself, but all he wanted to do was call Diana and find out how the negotiations were going. "I've said all I can. Without Diana here to provide any additional testimony, they have everything they're going to get out of it."
"I'm sure they'll rule in your favor, captain." Sulu remarked, ever hopeful.
Jim wasn't so sure he could agree. Instead, he just nodded and stepped away from them, grabbing his communicator. Flipping it open, he keyed it for long-range transmission via earth's subspace relays, fully prepared to level with Diana.
But, he remembered what she was doing on Khitomer. Those peace accords to lead to an era of peace between the Klingon Empire and the Federation. She had enough on her mind.
She didn't need him right now.
Diana really needed Jim right now.
Neither Spock nor Uhura knew her past with Ares. Even though she had released him, she didn't trust that he had any interests but his own. At least if she had Jim there, he would know the god's tricks. And he would understand that Diana had no desire to reveal her divine nature or that of Ares. If the Klingons saw their gods as creatures to kill, she had no way of knowing how they would react to her using the lasso.
But, more importantly, Jim really did know her heart. She had not realized how much she'd grown to rely on his counsel, on their debate and healthy need to challenge each other. She had been given the blessing of time with him that she had lacked with Steve.
It seemed that the more she tried to push him away, the more she longed to have him beside her. She was regretting her decision to keep him at arm's length more and more. Her heart had already decided in the months she'd spent getting to know Jim that he was a fixture in her life.
Unfortunately, she had no time to worry about what she did not have. Instead, the three Federation members found themselves surrounded by Klingon ambassadors, intent on drawing blood for the death of their fellow warrior.
"She killed Toproc! With a female's dishonorable weapon! Poison!" Motar was practically howling, disdain dripping from his lips.
Worf seemed less convinced, and rightly so. He had been with them leading up to the banquet and knew that Diana's intentions were sound. She had felt no dishonesty in the man, only a sincere belief that the Empire be made stronger through the alliance. They had barely begun to discuss terms when she'd been pulled into a fight, and would have had no opportunity to poison the commander.
"I have no reason to poison one of your own." Diana said, almost exasperated that she had to defend herself in that moment. "I want this treaty, I want these accords to succeed."
"Then why do you have Fe'kor with you?" Worf asked, pointing to Ares. Of course, since he was now in the same guise before the lasso had touched him, it made sense that the Colonel knew him as one of his delegation. "How can we trust you when you pursue a Klingon and shirk your honorable combat?"
"She has no honor, she is a human!" Motar snarled. "We never should have trusted them!"
Diana knew she was running out of time. If she was to salvage any hope for peace, she would have to think quickly, regardless of the risk. Worf had said it himself: subterfuge was not very Klingon. So, if there was a reason someone wanted to kill Torpoc, then they would not want their honor challenged. "Search my person, but you will find nothing of this poison you claim was given to him."
Worf frowned, clearly at an impasse. "Klingon law expects all warriors to be honorable in the face of such treachery. It is not our duty to prove your innocence for you. You are assumed guilty."
"That is highly illogical, as one cannot prove that they do not have an implement of a crime if they never held possession of it in the first place." Not for the first time, Spock's patience with Klingon tradition seemed to be wearing thin. Diana, of course, agreed with his impeccable logic, yet she saw no way to force the already obstinate Klingons into Federation principles of justice.
"Prove you are not guilty, or suffer the punishment." Worf said, facing Diana as if Spock had never spoken.
Again, she wished for Jim's presence, if only for the insight he held as a spy in both lives. Instead, she tried to think as he would.
A spy would have known that Klingons did not rely on an assumption of innocence. They would most certainly turn down any other option other than the most Klingon of actions, in an attempt to prove they were part of the group.
Diana would have to play that game better than they could.
"Then, I will prove my innocence in honorable combat."
Uhura and Spock both seemed disturbed by that. Ares - or as he was known now, Fe'kor - seemed unfazed.
Diana walked over to Motar, even as the Klingons trained their disruptor rifles on her. "You challenged me before, and I accepted. If I prove that I am the superior warrior, then take my word as honorable. I will then help locate the true culprit. And if I lose, then you may render your judgement."
Motar looked her over as if she was something on the bottom of his boot. Considering the reputation of Klingon women as fierce warriors in their own right, Diana had hoped for at least a modicum of respect.
"Very well." He growled, clenching and unclenching his fist at his side. "Prepare yourself, human. You may wear armor like a Klingon, but you will die just as the same, and no Klingon will care to send your soul to Sto-vo-kor."
Diana simply quirked an eyebrow. "We shall see."
Several minutes later, they had returned to the banquet table. A couple of warriors had pulled Toproc's body - quite unceremoniously - off of the table and into a medical building. As others had cleared a space in the courtyard for a more formal combat challenge, Diana caught sight of Spock pulling the blood pie and gagh from the table setting in front of the fallen commander. She smiled at him, relieved that in all of this chaos, the science officer was still searching for an explanation. He pulled his tricorder, scanning the plates as the rest of the colony seemed to approach, eager for the fight.
Now, Diana and Motar stood face to face, following the practice for honorable combat by Klingon law.
Colonel Worf approached her with bat'leth in hand, his expression severe and deeply concerned. "This bat'leth has been in my family for eight generations. If you are innocent, it will serve you well. If not, you will die. The combat is to the death."
Diana nodded, touched by the trust he had placed in her, then gently took the weapon from him. She wanted to reaffirm her innocence to him, to remind him that poison was not a weapon she would ever consider. But, she knew better. He didn't need her explanations. He needed her actions. "Any advice?"
Worf considered her a moment, then finally offered: "Do not think of it as a weapon. Make it part of your hand, part of your arm. Make it part of you."
Diana took the bat'leth from Worf and gripped it tightly in her hands. It was a curious, heavy weapon that reminded her of several others he had seen over the years. The fighting style, however, was still a relative mystery to her. Her understanding of Klingon fighting techniques was the breadth of one Klingon opera and a handful of lectures on general fighting technique. Worf could offer her no more than he had. "Thank you, Colonel.."
The remaining two Klingon ambassadors were watching Motar, as if he was now the only obstacle between them and what they saw as the guilty party. Gorkon seemed quite collected. For a Klingon, he was remarkably quiet and thoughtful. As the governor of Khitomer, he was largely disinterested in political infighting, and seemed more focused on the stability of his colony.
Kor was the picture of disquiet. He had not spoken to Diana once since the barest of pleasantries, but he seemed uniquely unsettled by the entire challenge. It would have been easy to assume that as the only Klingon without forehead ridges, he could have had reason to be resentful of his fellow ambassadors. But, Diana sensed nothing but truth and an honest desire for honor. If anything, she felt as if he had not spoken to her because he didn't think it was his place.
Colonel Worf stepped away, leaving her to her fate. She knew Uhura and Spock stood to her left at the front of the crowd. She spared a glance their way, offering them both a smile.
"Good luck, Diana." Uhura simply remarked, voicing perhaps what they were both thinking.
She nodded, holding the weapon aloft in one hand by its center grip. "Thank you, sister, but, I need no luck, only wisdom."
Motar laughed as she stared at the weapon in curiosity. "This will be a short fight if you cannot defend yourself."
Diana simply glanced up at him, flipping the weapon into a ready position to mimic Motar's. The Amazons of Themyscira had trained in every fighting style known to ancient man. Diana had expanded upon that knowledge in over a century of combat across the earth. The Klingons thought themselves brutal, Diana knew humans could be savage. And in all cases, to learn how to temper that savagery, she needed only let him teach her how to fight with his own technique.
Worf barked out the order to begin and Diana immediately dropped into a fighting stance.
Motar moved the weapon effortlessly in his hands with a discipline and slow ease. She mimicked him, watching his footing, what he was watching, and how he was switching his grip as he swung the weapon methodically. He executed the art of the bat'leth as any capable warrior would, but he did not press any advantage. Instead, he was patient to circle her until he was ready.
The crowd was lusting for blood, but they didn't seem particular as to where it came from.
He struck, testing her defenses. She blocked him with ease, again and again, as he tested each of her positions. The force of his blows were solid and rattled through her bones. It felt like taking blows from Artemis. And just as she had learned over countless days on the training grounds, she would study and measure Motar's actions. She had limited knowledge of the combat style, but from what she had seen, he seemed adept. If she expected to best him, she would have to learn where his technique ended and his instinct began.
Motar began to press a true attack. Diana watched the way he spun the blade. Deadly from all of its points and blades, the bat'leth made long arcs and extended the graceful movement of a slash to twice the length of his arm. It was both crescent sword and bo staff and even more deadly.
Diana couldn't afford to reveal her abilities to their fullest. If she was to establish that a Federation ambassador could be innocent by Klingon law, then she could not give any suggestion that she wasn't more than an above average human.
She rolled away from a particularly quick swipe at her stomach, then brought her bat'leth up to block Motar's as he drove it down towards her chest. She buckled for a moment, keeping the blades locked. She had studied the formations he used, the points he wanted to attack.
If combat was art, then Diana was a maestro, capable of sculpting like Donatello and painting frescos to make Michaelangelo cry. Motar simply could not live as many lives as she, to learn as many disciplines.
She had treated time as her enemy these last few weeks.
This reminded her that in this, time had been her greatest ally.
Diana pivoted his bat'leth away, nearly wresting it from his grip entirely. She rolled again, using the lower perspective to her advantage to whirl her blade around, swinging for his feet.
He barely jumped out of the way, but not before her blade struck at his calf, digging deep.
Motar howled and the crowd responded in kind. Jeers and shouts in the gutteral Klingon tongue urged him to recover his footing and swing his bat'leth once more, slipping into the ready stance, reassessing his opponent. He was more cautious than she expected a Klingon warrior to be. They were quick to anger, yet he was clearly trying to calculate moves ahead.
Diana spun her bat'leth in hand, watching him as she swung a few careful, graceful arcs of her own towards him. Motar feinted to the left, but she noticed the ruse and pivoted accordingly. To her surprise and to her honest battle-driven delight, he actually anticipated the move. His bat'leth sliced across her arm with one of the smaller curves in the blade.
She groaned, gritting her teeth, then kicked him away. She ignored the warm trickle of blood down her arm. She was immortal, not impervious. Few blades had been strong enough to actually pierce her skin, but the bat'leth was made of some metal not of earth. She did not want to consider how that might spin the battle out of her favor.
Motar had expected that she would dodge. He wasn't thinking like a Klingon. She glanced down at his leg to see that fabric was sticking to the back of his calf. He was bleeding, slightly nursing the wound.
Diana smirked. Now, it was her turn.
The blade tumbled over her hands as she began to land blow after blow against the other weapon. She couldn't seem to find an opening, but she wasn't necessarily looking for one. She would wear him down, keep him from thinking too much about strategy. If Klingons were so quick to anger, she could use that to her advantage.
She found the point where his instinct and his technique met. She pressed on, expecting instinct to lead to anger and sloppy, brutal fighting as she had seen just in the street brawls of Khitomer.
Instead… the actual technique changed.
It was subtle, but to a master of martial arts like Diana, impossible to ignore. To watch Motar pivot on his heel and grip the bat'leth to rest against the back of his arm had been to watch a samurai suddenly drop into the fighting stance of a Roman Legionnaire. He had gone taut, no longer as fluid.
It was familiar. Eerily so. Diana's eyes narrowed as she found herself considering where she had fought someone with such a rigid, militaristic style in the past.
It reminded her of her brief encounters with…
No. It couldn't be.
Motar made a move to slash at her head, and she ducked again. When he came at her once more, this time for jab at her chest, she leaned back, just out of reach.
He was watching for her sword hand. She had been favoring it since the beginning of the fight without thinking, as it was easier to learn the new technique.
Diana reacted in a microsecond.
She pivoted and executed one smooth move that most Klingon warriors would have considered a mastery technique. She switched her grip and knocked his weapon off to his right, leaving him wildly exposed. She rolled the back of the bat'leth along the soft underside of her arm. It rolled up and over, allowing her to catch the grip for the right hand in her left. With a determined cry, Diana slashed her weapon forward, cleanly ripping open his armor and sending him crashing to the floor.
Before he could recover, she kicked his weapon from his hand and firmly planted a boot upon his now wounded chest. "I have bested you." She said, swinging the bat'leth until its curve rested just against his neck. "Yield," she breathed, much to the displeasure of the surrounding Klingons.
To die honorably was the greatest blessing a Klingon could ask for. She expected him to refuse to yield in the hopes that he would reach Sto-vo-kor.
Diana didn't care for that solution, but if Worf could not intercede, she was prepared for it.
When he didn't answer, she moved the bat'leth in a second, swiping the tip of her blade across his cheek. It was then that she saw something she had not been able to discern against the black fabric on his leg.
She expected to draw an answer from him in the droplets of blood and a scar to remind him of his defeat. But, those droplets were not the lavender hue of Klingon blood.
Motar was bleeding green.
Diana pulled her boot away. Her golden greaves were in a quickly pooling emerald green puddle on his chest. The cut had been fairly deep, but not so deeply for a Klingon. But, this was not iron-based blood. The only races that bled green were copper-based. Vulcans and…
"He's a Romulan." Diana said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. To illustrate her point, she held up her bat'leth, which bore the blood splatter to match her greaves.
The crowd was audibly shocked. From the circle of spectators, she could hear Commander Kor, of all of them, shout: "We have a Romulan spy in our midst!"
She glanced up, looking to Worf for assistance. "You are being manipulated - "
"Diana! Stop him!" Spock's voice cut through the din of angry Klingon voices just quickly enough for her to look down at Motar - or whoever he was.
He had his hand to his mouth, as if he was gasping in fear for being discovered.
Only his pupils suddenly dilated, and he began to shake.
"No!" She cried, dropping to her knees. She quickly ripped his hand away. He began to foam at the mouth and she quickly tried to pry his lips open, to see if she could pull whatever fast-acting agent he had ingested. "No, no, do not do this! Why are you here? Who sent you?!" It was no use. He was in the throes of some chemical. Motar's eyes, wracked with pain, began to fade.
Worf and Spock were at her side as Motar faded away.
Diana glanced up at them, at a loss.
Beside them, a small vial slipped from under Motar's sleeve and rolled down his now limp hand.