Chapter Text
Part Three (Cont'd)
“Hey!”
Natasha stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned in the direction of the familiar voice. She saw Cameron pacing quickly over to her, wearing his dress uniform. Which, for reasons she instinctively felt she probably didn’t want to go into, seemed to have some sort of synthehol stain down the front of the jacket.
“Glad I found you,” he continued, gesturing back towards the reception hall, “Thought you might have joined us at the reception. Where were you?”
She stifled a grimace and looked down at her own standard issue uniform, not wanting to reveal that she’d spent almost the entire day hiding on the holodeck, retreating into the safety of her childhood memories rather than dealing with any of her present day issues. “Thought that was for top brass and Copernicus crew members only,” she replied, “Unless you were expecting to see me in a waitress outfit serving canapes?”
He mustered a smile and shook his head. In a roundabout way, that was one way of telling him that she hadn’t accepted his offer yet.
“There’s still slots available on alpha shift, you know. You could be working directly under the CMO. Really great guy, Doctor Yepht. Denobulan. You’d learn a lot.”
The ensign’s face flitted around in her mind.
“You’re saying I still have a lot to learn?” she asked with a tight smile.
“Come on, Nat,” he persisted, “You haven’t got long left to make a decision. We ship out to Deep Space Nine tomorrow for final crew rotation. Next stop, the Gamma Quadrant.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She turned to walk off, back towards her temporary quarters. He called out, forcing her to stop on the spot. But she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. “What’s going on? Why are you denying yourself this chance? Like I said, you deserve this.”
No, she thought to herself, I don’t.
“As soon as I make a decision,” she managed, “You’ll be the first to know.”
She started walking again. He called out again. “Oh, by the way, your Trill friend made a hell of a scene at the reception.”
She stopped. This time she turned around.
“What?”
“Yep, and he wasn’t serving canapes either.”
Cameron smiled. It wasn’t his usual superior smile. This one was slightly more furtive, like he was sharing state secrets with her. “Rumour has it the guy got dressed down pretty badly by the admiral for that. I mean, properly chewed up and spat out. Sounded like when my shuttle pilot instructor at the Academy caught me leaning the thrusters on the redline.”
Natasha couldn’t help but muster a smile as she remembered Jirel’s earlier admission. “Probably felt like that for them, too.”
“What?”
She shook her head, not really wanting to get into all that here, with her current company. “Oh, y’know, just—the admiral. I guess it probably reminded him of chewing out cadets at the Academy.”
Cameron looked confused. “Pretty sure Admiral Jenner never taught at the Academy, Nat. Why would you think that?”
She struggled to hide her surprise as he eyed her up with befuddlement. She managed to muster a casual shrug. “I dunno. Must’ve got my admirals confused. I...need some rest. Sorry.”
She turned back again and took off down the corridor. Her mind now racing with thoughts other than the face of the ensign.
“Seriously,” Cameron called after, “I can’t keep the offer open much longer!”
She ignored him and continued to walk, lost in thought, all the way back to her quarters. Cameron watched her disappear around the corner. As soon as she got back, she hurried over to the computer terminal and called up the information she needed. Cameron was right. Admiral Jenner had never lectured at the Academy. Not even a guest slot here and there.
She leaned back in her chair in confusion and considered the story that Jirel had spun her. She knew it hadn’t been the whole truth, but now she was wondering if even part of it had been anything other than lies. As she looked out at the darkness outside her window, she found that her head was full of fresh questions.
She also realised something else.
She hadn’t thought about Cameron’s offer once.
* * * * *
Sunek was still shivering, and now he felt like he was alone.
Kolar had continued to pace around the clearing in front of him for some time, but now, as far as Sunek could tell, he had disappeared into the undergrowth and left him.
Which in a way was good news, because it meant that the seemingly unbalanced Klingon that had kidnapped him wasn’t around any more. But it was also bad news, because Sunek was still nervous, and he couldn't exactly settle those nerves by talking some more if there was nobody to talk to.
He struggled with his bonds again, trying to free himself, but the knots were tied far too tightly for that to be an option. After a few more desperate movements, accomplishing nothing other than giving himself a nasty rope burn, he paused and sighed.
Then, from somewhere in the brush, he heard someone approaching. Which made him even more nervous.
“Hey,” he said, returning to his tried and tested method of dealing with that particular emotion, “There you are.”
No response. That didn’t stop him from continuing.
“So, I was just thinking...See, I didn’t have any dinner tonight. Was kinda hoping I’d be eating in the company of these two Starfleet ensigns, y’know? Man, they were both so hot—You know what, that doesn’t matter. Point is: Any chance you packed a picnic?”
As he continued with his impromptu monologue, he saw a figure rise up beside him.
“Shut up, Sunek,” Klath muttered.
“Klath? Oh, thank Surak, you’re here! You’re here to rescue me! See, I always knew you’d come through for me—”
“I am not here to rescue you,” Klath replied, interrupting him.
Sunek’s face dropped. He saw Klath step forwards, his attention now on scanning the surrounding area rather than on untying him. “Klath, seriously,” he persisted, “There’s a crazy old Klingon up here. We need to get out of here now. Like, we seriously need to run.”
“Klingons do not run.”
“And Vulcans don’t tell knock knock jokes! Couple of big old trendsetters, that’s what they’ll call us! So, just...untie me and let’s—!”
“Kolar!”
Klath bellowed the name out into the darkness, loud enough for it to echo around the hilltop.
“Well don’t do that!” Sunek snapped in exasperation, frantically redoubling his efforts to free himself from his bonds.
Klath ignored him and continued to look for signs of his adversary.
“How do you know his name anyway—?”
Sunek shut up as the undergrowth parted ahead of both of them, and the other Klingon returned, stepping into the light and revealing his scarred features. Klath’s only reaction was to tense up in preparation for the fight.
“Klath,” Kolar growled at him, “I always suspected that, of all of them, you would prove especially difficult to kill.”
Klath’s eyes narrowed as he slowly stepped forwards, preparing to reach for the bat’leth that was still sheathed on his back. The two Klingons slowly began to circle around, sizing up their respective enemy.
“Hey, now,” Sunek chimed in, “This is all getting a bit serious guys—”
“Silence!” Kolar bellowed across the clearing, keeping his focus on the other Klingon.
Klath spied the d'k tahg in Kolar’s belt, reasoning that the small dagger would still be a potent weapon even against a bat’leth, but suspecting that his greater reach and power would prove to be decisive. He went for his blade. But he didn’t get to it before Kolar reached behind his back and pulled out a disruptor pistol.
That was something Klath hadn’t been counting on.
“And yet,” Kolar leered darkly, “Perhaps not so difficult to kill after all.”
Klath stared down the barrel of the weapon, moving his hand away from the bat’leth on his back.
“Such a noble plan, Klath, to come here and rescue your friend. How easy it was to get you to meet me on my terms.”
Kolar dismissively gestured at Sunek, who was watching the unfolding scene in front of him with increasing amounts of worry.
“There is no honour in that,” Klath shot back, gesturing to the disruptor, “In shooting me where I stand. Let us settle this properly, like warriors.”
Kolar’s eyes narrowed. “Really,” he spat, “And tell me why I should allow you an honourable death, when the Sons of Marlek were offered no such luxury.”
Klath didn’t react to the name externally, but inside he felt fresh shame.
“Hey,” Sunek spoke up again, “Seeing as this is clearly some sort of personal matter you two need to sort out, how about you, y’know, let your old buddy Sunek go, eh? And I’ll get right out of your very impressive hair.”
Klath stifled a grimace, wondering if the last thing he was destined to hear was the familiar sound of Sunek running his mouth. He very much prayed that it wasn’t. However, Sunek’s comment did at least seem to give Kolar a reason to pause.
“Really, Vulcan? You have no idea what this is about?”
“None at all. And I’m really good at forgetting a face, so if you let me go, I’d have nothing to tell anyone about—”
“You’d forget this face?” Kolar persisted, deliberately running his free hand across the scarring on his cheek.
Sunek felt himself gulp involuntarily.
“Surely not,” the Klingon continued, “This is a face that tells its own story, surely. A story of a lifetime of pain and humiliation. A story that started off in the Tygon Nebula.”
He fixed Klath with a dark stare as he said that name. Klath growled quietly. “This does not concern him, Kolar,” he managed to reply, his hand twitching as he wondered how quickly he could draw his bat’leth.
Realistically, even he had to admit he couldn’t do it faster than a disruptor blast could travel. Kolar had the upper hand in every respect. And he knew it.
“Perhaps he wants to hear the story,” Kolar offered.
“This is between us,” Klath pressed, “He does not need to know.”
“Yep,” Sunek nodded, “I don’t need to know anything. And, again, if you just wanna untie my hands, I’ll be right out of here.”
Kolar continued to pace around, ignoring the Vulcan’s comments and keeping his weapon trained on his adversary. “Have you never wondered, Vulcan? About why this man ended up being your shipmate? Why a Klingon serves onboard your pathetic little garbage scow of a vessel, on endless pitiful delivery runs, instead of serving the empire?”
Sunek glanced over at Klath, whose attention was still on the other Klingon. “I mean...it’s never really come up,” he offered weakly, “He was with Jirel when I joined.”
Inside, Sunek had to admit that he had asked himself that question more than once since he had met Klath many years ago. But the Klingon was also a decidedly private individual, and Sunek wasn’t a huge fan of personal conversations at the best of times, so he had never pushed the issue.
“Go on,” Kolar spat at Klath, “Tell him.”
Klath ground his teeth together. Kolar tightened his grip on the disruptor.
“Tell him about your war crimes.”
End of Part Three