Chapter 8: Lt. S'Vrall meets an old flame aboard the D'Kyr, Sublieutenant T'hiru, as they join forces to repel Klingon boarding parties. T'hiru's exotic beauty tugs at S'Vrall's heartstrings, but T'hiru sees S'Vrall in action, that is: sees the real S'Vrall. S'Vrall learns what it is to see a monster in someone else's horrified eyes.

Computer Simulation deck observation tower, Day 2 aboard the USS Discovery.

"Computer," I said. "Reconstruct the Battle of Nivalla, Stardate 4792.2."

The research outpost Nivalla came into view.

Space. Peaceful darkness.

Then: three Klingon battle cruisers dropped out of warp – Klingons like threes, don't you know – and arrayed themselves around the outpost and began bombardment.

It was going to be a massacre.

Men, women, and children, all civilians, and with no way to fire back, were about to have their outpost's shielding penetrated by the combined might of the Klingons' disruptors and photon torpedoes. And then the slaughter would commence, and there was nothing these Feds could do about it.

Klingon barbeque.

... because the Klingons went into battle with teeth sharpened, ... and hungry.

Footsteps behind me, two sets of them, as two persons entered the observation tower. I could tell by the stench that one of them was human, male, and the other, the Kelpien. I turned to see the Captain and the XO walking toward me. I could tell they had things to say to me.

Joy.

Captain Lorca stood in front of me, visibly vibrating in place. Commander Saru stood ramrod straight. But that was his relaxed pose, too. He wasn't relaxed now.

"I thought XO told you to make amends with Michael Burnham, not shout down the whole mess deck!" Yes. Captain Lorca didn't look pleased.

"I think our conversation went pretty well," I stated.

"Do you? Do you?" Captain Lorca wasn't foaming at the mouth. I admired his restraint. "That's why we're here, see? To correct that perspective, because it's wrong!"

"Ah," I said. "Thank you, sir."

I turned back to the console running the simulation. The D'Kyr and three other Vulcan combat vessels dropped out of warp and began to array themselves around the embattled outpost. The Klingon vessels redirected fire at the Vulcan ships, and the battle for Nivalla became a Naval engagement. Both sides stood their ground, giving and receiving massive amounts of damage.

The Battle of Nivalla wasn't an engagement that was much talked about, but that didn't make it any less bloody.

Captain Lorca came to stand beside me, observing the battle alongside me.

"You don't become the security officer by intimidating my crew," he stated.

"I didn't know 'friend of everybody' was in the job description." I said. "Was your last security officer all buddy-buddy with her shipmates?"

"... No." Captain Lorca said, "but ..."

"Sorry," I said, "this is my cue."

The D'Kyr took three direct photon torpedo hits. Their deflectors held, ... barely. They released a salvo of their own, concentrating fire on the most badly damaged Klingon warship.

It wasn't destroyed, but badly damaged enough so that it was now two Klingon vessels verses four Vulcan ones. But the Klingons, being Klingons, never say 'die,' ... or is it always say 'die!'?

Whichever. The badly damaged ship rammed straight into the D'Kyr, firing at the two flanking Vulcan warships, taking the D'Kyr out fo the naval battle and badly damaging her sister ship. It was now two-on-two again, thanks to that Klingon commander's heroics.

The Naval battle continued above the Nivalla outpost, but that was not my concern.

"Computer," I said. "Pause simulation and insert me aboard the D'Kyr."

"Me, too," the Captain stated.

"Sir," I said, turning to him. "The safeties are off. You could very likely die if you insert yourself into this simulation."

"You want to be security officer, ... do your job and protect me. Besides, I want to see you in action."

I made a point to look around the room. "That's why they call this the observation tower, sir."

"You don't learn anything by watching from the sidelines, lieutenant."

"You don't learn anything dead, sir," I countered. "I'll insert safety protocols for you."

"But not for you?" he countered.

"I am Vulcan," I replied. "I can shrug off a disruptor hit or two. You wouldn't last two seconds in this conflict."

"I've fought Klingons before, lieutenant. I can handle myself. Put me in there."

"Nosir," I stated.

"... what was that?" Captain Lorca's crystal clear eyes penetrated me.

"You told me to do my job," I said. "So, I'm doing my job. My primary job is to protect you. You're staying here."

Captain Lorca glared at me. "Goddamnit, S'Vrall, is it also the security officer's job to piss me off?"

"Yessir," I said, unmoved.

"Then you're doing a damn-fine job at that. Put in the Goddamn safeties for me, but don't pussy-out the simulation, got me? Put the safety levels at ... like: make me like I'm one of the Vulcans in the sim, got me?"

"It's going to hurt like Thieurrull, sir."

Captain Lorca got a quizzical look on his face. "What was that? The translator didn't pick that up."

Shit, I cursed myself.

I just said a Romulan word out loud.

I played it off. "It's an expression, sir. It's going to hurt like Hell."

"Good," he said. "Let's go, then."

I looked toward Commander Saru. This was his cue to advise his captain against this foolhardiness.

Commander Saru said nothing. Apparently, he's had this conversation enough times with his captain to learn the fruitlessness of trying to convince him to take the sane course of action.

I turned to the controls and adjusted safety levels for 'player 2.'

"Ready, sir?" I asked him.

"Ready," he said.

We'll see. I thought darkly, and the simulation took over.

...

It was like we were being beamed aboard the D'Kyr from the USS Discovery, which was impossible in this intense combat situation, but that was the feeling.

"Grab a vac ..." I began.

Then I stared. Captain Gabriel Lorca stood before me, a Vulcan.

He was fucking hot.

Focus, S'Vrall. "Grab a vac suit, sir!" I shouted, and began suiting up, myself.

Captain Lorca followed suit.

"Activate your suit's deflector, sir!" I shouted, my voice muffled through the helmet. Comms were down, and that was a good thing: we don't need the Klingons tapping into our battle net and picking us off using our own networks.

"You have deflectors on your battle armor?" he shouted back.

I looked at him, confused. "You don't? How did you become a spacefaring race?" I demanded as I activated my deflector shielding.

"Now I know why you picked up a portable shield!" he shouted as he activated his own deflector.

From then on the hum of the deflectors in my ears whitewashed all other sounds to a dull and constant buzz. I grabbed two phasers and tossed one of them to Captain Lorca, the catch which he fumbled. Holding onto things became a whole new experience, deflected.

'You fucking idiot! Keep up!' I screamed at him, but I knew he couldn't hear me. I couldn't hear me.

I pumped my fist then pointed forward. The Klingons had boarded our vessel through the mutual hull breach, and were engaged in their favorite sport: hand-to-hand combat. It wasn't visible from where we were, but the fighting was on this deck. I sprinted toward the action.

I looked back at Captain Lorca, only to see him trip over his own feet and fall, flat-faced onto the deck.

'Goddamn baby-sitting mission!' I howled. I ran back, hoisted him back onto his feet, gave him a hard shove, and sprinted toward the fray, again.

I didn't look back.

One set of doors. Two sets, then ...

Hard vacuum. Several Vulcans were in free-fall, dead. Three Klingons up ahead in their battle armor. Damn, those brutes looked tough. Nothing like the pussy-humans surrounding me on the Discovery. I howled toward them, which, of course, they couldn't hear, then fired one shot, two shots at them. Both connected. Vulcans have impeccable aim. Captain Lorca also got off a shot, but his deflected vision or his slippery hold on his phaser caused the shot to go wild.

Never mind, it got the Klingons' attentions. They turned as I ran into their midst, still howling. Disruptor fire sizzled through the air, but we were now too close-combat for disruptors to be effective.

That was the whole point of my charge. I grabbed one of the warrior's Hegh'bat and stabbed another's calf muscles: a weak-point in their battle armor. She howled, but not for long, as I flipped the blade and stabbed down, hard, penetrating her helm then, following through, splitting her skull.

She died a horrible, honorable death.

No blade in hand, I rammed into the other two, pushed one against the other into the bulkhead, grabbed his Hegh'bat and gutted him with it. The third was struggling to free himself from the press when I punched through his helm, seven times, finally cracking it wide open, and I let the vacuum carry him off to Suto'vo'qor.

It surely looked like he didn't enjoy that journey, however. Have you ever seen hard vacuum rip a body apart? It's not pretty, even on a Klingon.

I turned back to Captain Lorca, raised my fist and pointed forward. Let's go! I signaled and sprinted down the corridor.

The next battle was a tableau. Seven Klingon warriors formed a solid wall of meat and disruptor-fire. They had pinned down, now: three Vulcans remaining from what looked like eight or so crew members in vac suits. They were putting up a solid fight, but they were outgunned by the Klingons who were pressing their advantage with a ferocity for which they are renowned.

The honorable thing would be to announce my presence before I attacked. Hellguard taught me exactly what honor got anybody: a swift, stupid death. I charged toward them, when Captain Lorca's phaser fire hit the rear guard, alerting the whole Klingon squad that they had enemy behind them now.

"Yarrrgh!" I screamed in fury at my stupid Captain and the stupid Klingons and the stupid pinned-down pussy-Vulcans who were stupid!

I rammed into the rear guard as he turned, facing me. Perfect! I thought, and snapped his neck with tal-shaya. That warrior died standing, the expression on his face a fading look of utter confusion.

The other warriors, six of them, weren't so stupid, after all, however. As one, they holstered disruptors and drew swords and daggers.

It was on.

But I wasn't alone. The Vulcans saw my distraction and doubled down with phaser fire and came out of cover. Captain Lorca continued his own attack from behind me, firing into Klingon contingent.

His aim wasn't all that great. One of the shots hit me square in the back. I screamed. That hurt like a muthafukkah! ... that's a technical battle term, by the way, ... and I staggered, earning a hard kick to the ribs and two solid blows to my upraised blocking arm. I rolled, then continued to roll, and let the Vulcans on either side of me deal with Klingons who were now trying to regroup, but they had been thoroughly routed and were made short work of.

I had one kill out of the seven, and that really, really pissed me off, but there was nothing for it.

I rolled to a standing position and swayed. With safeties off, this simulation mimicked battle conditions perfectly, and minor cuts and bruises, and a phaser blast to my back, even deflected, hurt like nobody's business.

The Vulcans approached me and Captain Lorca. "Security officer S'Vrall," one of them said.

... It was sublieutenant T'hiru.

I quickly put my fingers to my helmet, pantomiming touching my lips. Comms off!

I went up to her and put my helmet to her helmet.

"Who is this other officer?" T'hiru asked. "He's not on the ship's roster." The sound of her voice caused her helmet to vibrate which caused my helmet to vibrate in synch. It wasn't perfect communication, but in this hard vacuum, it was secure.

"No time for that," I barked. "The Klingons are moving through the D'Kyr, trying to reach command and engineering. There are at least fifty of them aboard, if not more. We must retake the ship now. Are you with me?"

She nodded in her helmet, ... God, she's beautiful, I thought, her exotic look smote me, even through her helmet ... then she added: "Veh."

Veh. or 'One,' invoking the Vulcan proverb:

Veh tor arivne; Veh tor Karik'es.

'One is Unity; One is Strength.'

Well, at least we could agree on one thing, ... for now, anyway.

"I take lead," I stated. "Do you accept?"

She nodded again, then stated: "Ha!" or: 'Yes.'

I withdrew my helmet from hers, then looked at the two other surviving Vulcans. Good, solid science crew. Utterly useless in a fight, just like Sublieutenant T'hiru. Oh, well. I raised my fist, pointed forward, then took my fist and smacked my palm.

Forward. My order said, and: Crush all opposition.

I led the charge.

In-ship infighting is a combination of frenetic action and frustrating obstacles. You must cut through debris and bulkheads (agonizingly slowly) and doors that refuse to open in hard vacuum, for your own safety, of course. Stupid doors: hard vacuum on both sides means you're useless, but do they open? No.

But then, announcing our presence for any Klingon with half-a-brain, which are most of them, ... they are, after all, an advanced spacefaring race, ... we breached into the next chamber.

No Klingons.

We pressed forward, because they were pressing forward.

Fortunately, they were doing the work of cutting through barriers for us.

We caught up to the next squad working on cutting their way into the bridge.

Twelve of them.

Fuck.

Charge, I signaled, and we, the Vulcans, as one, charged forward. Captain Lorca didn't betray our position this time, with phaser fire, thank God!

I rammed into the Klingon at the back, the squad's commander, grabbed his Hegh'bat, then sliced into his battle armor, severing his spine.

The other Klingons got wind that something was amiss when they heard their commander's death-howl through their comms. They turned, and it was on.

Captain Lorca acquitted himself well, following my example by engaging in hand-to-hand combat with the Klingons, using their own weapons against them.

Sublieutenant T'hiru and the other two scientists, ... not so much. They spent half the time stunned at our ferocity, and half the time engaging the Klingons in a more civil and honorable martial combat.

Of the twelve, I killed or maimed nine of them; Captain Lorca wounded three. We lost one of ours: one of the scientists.

Then I got to the bloody task of finishing off the wounded Klingons, one-by-one.

After the third murder, a hand on my arm stopped my fourth killing blow.

I looked. It was Sublieutenant T'hiru. She shook her head: No.

I looked right back at her: No! I shook my head, and finished off the last two Klingons.

The look in Sublieutenant T'hiru's eyes.

She was looking at a monster.

I stood over my handiwork.

I signaled again: fist to palm, then I signaled my hand, slicing across my neck.

Kill. No mercy.

The Vulcans looked at me in stony silence. T'hiru turned to the other Vulcan. They communicated through their helmets for a minute, then she turned back to me. Fist to palm, but softly.

Compliance.

I'd have to take that.

We eventually breached the door to the bridge.

Dead Vulcans, floating everywhere in hard vacuum.

I didn't know what else I was expecting to see. I signaled the others to take up the stations around the bridge. We worked in silence, assessing battle damage.

It was significant and worrisome. There were pockets of air, throughout most the ship, in fact, but engineering was being assaulted, and the Vulcan forces there, less than ten of them now, were being hard-pressed and falling back against a wave of thirty or more Klingons.

We looked at the tactical situation. I looked at the others.

Thirty Klingons. Four of us.

It was suicide.

I pumped my fist then pointed at the battle ongoing in engineering. Let's go. I signaled.

The Vulcans nodded.

We left the bridge, grim and determined.

...

The battle for engineering could have gone better.

The Klingons had killed a couple of Vulcan in the time it took us to reach the engineering deck, but that wasn't the problem, that was merely an acceptable tactical loss.

The problem was there was a Klingon that spoke Vulcan, and he was being reasonable.

"Set ish-veh wun." Drop your weapons. "Kuv du fator tor tehnau etek, etek dungi stau kanok kim-shah ve t'du!" If you continue to resist us, we will kill every last one of you!

Reasonable, right? From the Vulcan side, it sounded like it, because I saw two, no, three, no: five Vulcans dropping their weapons and coming out of cover.

"Rai!" I screamed as I ran toward disaster: "Wuh Tlingansu yokul ish-veh kafeh!"

The Vulcans made the fatal mistake: they thought that Klingon honor was the same thing as Vulcan honor. Vulcans honored peace and reason and logic. Klingons honored war and death and power.

Vulcans and Klingons are not the same, which meant, practically speaking:

The Klingons eat their captives.

Surrendering to Klingons? That was a sure sign of weakness, and you deserved to be eaten alive for the cowardice you showed.

My scream alerted both sides, but the Klingons saw our phalanx for what it was: no threat to them.

So they simply shot and killed five very stupid Vulcans who were scrambling to reach for their phasers in the wide-open bay.

I howled. I needed those stupid fuck-ups. At the very least they could've provided covering fire, or distracted the enemy from their flanks, but no!

Fuck! "Fuuucckkk!" I screamed as I charged, but I was too goddamn far away. 15, 20, ... 30 Klingons turned as one, having executed the idiots who had surrendered. That now done, they opened up a literal wall of disruptor fire in my direction.

Vac suit deflectors are only so good, and the Klingons practice with their weapons daily, almost as soon as they can walk.

One, two, three direct hits deflected, but then that was only wave one of two-three waves of particle waveform disruptive energy all aimed at me. The next wave knocked me down, hard, ... ow, and blew me back into my charging brigade, following me into death.

I took the brunt of the second wave of disruptor energy as Sublieutenant T'hiru shoved me aside, hard, and stood her ground, the idiot! I latched onto her arm and transferred my momentum to her, yanking her out of the line of fire.

The remaining Vulcans in engineering belatedly rejoined the fray, but that only split the Klingons into two teams of 15-each, against 5 or so Vulcans remaining in Engineering and the four of us.

Neither set of Vulcans had battle-experience. We knew it, and the Klingons knew it, too. Each sub-squad began to advance with a confident air against their respective foe.

Captain Lorca: "We stay put, we're dead!" he shouted above the fray. "Can you move?" he squatted down beside me.

I coughed up blood into my helmet as my answer. The blood splattered over my face, blinding me.

"Shit!" he shouted in frustration. "You two: when I make my move, I need you to charge the Klingons and do your Vulcan-thing, got me?"

"Our, ... Vulcan-thing?" T'hiru asked, confused.

Captain Lorca didn't explain himself. Instead, he grabbed my phaser, and set it to maximum.

It began to hum and vibrate in his hand.

"The phaser is going to explode if you don't discharge it!" T'hiru shouted.

I could barely hear her. Everything started to fade.

"That's the idea!" Captain Lorca replied, and lobbed it like a grenade, right into the midst of the Klingon sub-squad pressing toward us.

The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was Captain Lorca, a real, honest-to-God Hero, charging the remaining seven Klingons, now in disarray, with the two Vulcans right beside him.

It wouldn't be a fair fight, ... for the Klingons.

You do not press a Vulcan into a corner. I saw T'hiru spin a Klingon around, then, use his own mass to snap his arm in half.

That's m'girl, I thought proudly. I wish I could've seen her beat the Klingon to death with his own arm, but it was then that everything got weird and funny, and I saw no more.