1st LF writing contest entry no 2: Fire and Ice by Kheren

[Kheren]

FIRE AND ICEKheren





'' Our aim is not to defeat an enemy,
but to be without an enemy. ''

Uyeshiba Morihei, Founder of Aikido
Sector 001, Earth, 1945





'' Did you know that it is here, on this very station, that the famous Jhumon Captain James T. Kirk foiled a Klingon plot? ''

'' What Klingon plot? '' asked the Ferengi to his associate across the small round table cluttered with drinks. His immense head-sized ears were listening, but his small dark eyes were shifting towards the shapely forms of the Human females serving the ecclectic crowd in the bar.

'' Knowledge equals Profit! '' quoted the other Ferengi, as gaudily dressed as his gold and red clad companion. '' This Space Station K7 is the Starfleet installation nearest to the Organia Peace Treaty Zone separating the Klingon Empire from Federation Space. ''

'' So? What plot? ''

'' It is from here that the Federation started colonizing the sector, on Sherman's Planet, back in mid 23rd Century. The Klingons tried to poison their initial grain shipment. And now, the Empire just beat the invading Gorn Confederation and growls at the Federation condemning their occupation. War will come... ''

'' And war is good for business... ''quoted in turn the other, sliding his chair closer.

'' And surely it is here that this new war is most likely to begin...''

'' Right about... now. '' suddenly cut off the other.

He was not looking at his associate, but way over his bald, bulbous head as he dragged him out of his chair and towards the door, ducking as if thunder was about to roll in the vast room. And indeed, thunder was heard in the rough, loud voice bellowing from the front door:

'' Filthy Fedrat dump! There are bugs everywhere! ''

An uproar of laughter now erupted like the howling of wolves from the three imposing forms batting the fleeing Ferengis out of their way, roughly entering the bar. Their powerful bodies were all clad from head to toe in thick, grey and black padded armor: heavy spiked boots, coarse loose pants of thin fur over musclular legs, segmented leathery body covering over wide chests, wide pads over broad shoulders and long, large spiked gloves of the same thick, creaking leather over big hands. Their long, thick mane of dark, curly hair receded far behind ridged bony brows that thickened over beady black eyes glaring each side of a squat nose. Thick lips and jagged theeth flashed through a thin, pointed beard as they snarled everyone away from their path.

Towering over most humanoids in the social hub of the station, they bullied their way towards a corner table were sat a lone figure they were pointing at with unfriendly laughter and venomous eyes:

'' Those Fedrat bugs are really big! '' growled a second armored one.

'' And ugly too! Even a Pata'Q wouldn't soil a paw squashing one! '' laughed the third.

And they all roared in malicious mirth, cornering the seated figure.

The reason for their jest was immediately evident: despite his simple silk tunic of soft whites and greys, he was immediately noticeable for his deep dark blue skin contrasting sharply with the snow whiteness of his thick long hair and the startling silver color of his eyes under a scarred brow. And most noticeable was the pair of antennaes on top of each side of his head.

'' Move, Andorian. The Klingon Empire claims this place! ''

The blue-skinned Andorian didn't look up.

'' Are you deaf, bugman?'' asked the biggest Klingon.

'' Look he is deaf! No ears! '' laughed the second one, pointing at the earless skull under the hair and his raucous friends joined him hearthily.

'' Go lay eggs somewhere else! '' now insulted the third one.

Without a word, the Andorian rose and calmly stepped away from the table.

For a moment, the three Klingons just looked at him, blinking, mouth agape, as he simply started to walk away. But then, the largest of the three grabbed the arm of the blue-skinned humanoid.

He almost fell as the other, not looking at him, dragged the bigger grabbing Klingon a good step with him before stopping. For that short moment, the Klingon had felt as if he had weighted nothing for the tall, athletically built Andorian.

The challenge to his own strength made him smile and thighten his grip and the cold-skinned limb. But it felt as if he was squeezing a frozen metal pylon.

He smiled even more.

'' I do not seek confrontation. '' then said the Andorian in a deep but soft voice, keeping his features frozen, eyes and antennae straight ahead.

The tall Klingon, recovering his poise, did not dare look at his own companions blinking at one another in confusion. He straightened to his full height to tower over the Andorian and, still a hand on his arm, stepped right in front of him with an angry grin and a burning stare:

'' Oh but I think you do, insect. '' growled the armor-clad brute. '' A flimsy Human would already be squirming in pain at my feet under my grasp, babble in fear under my gaze... but not you. And I see fire in those shiny eyes.''

'' It is fear you see. ''

'' It is a lie I hear. ''

Now the silvery eyes rose directly to stare deep in those of the burly brute:

'' I will not fight you. '' flatly said the Andorian.

The Klingon laughed wickedly and his friends followed him in mocking echoes.

'' Like you have any choice.''

'' There is always a choice. ''

'' Ah yes: Daq taH, joq ghobe' Daq taH! ''

The Klingons all laughed again, this time ominiously.

The Andorian seemed to tense for a brief moment and took a step... a barely perceptible step, right towards the Klingon holding him. Reflexively, the powerful warrior tensed against the surprisingly massive push and suddenly felt the other shift his weight to his other foot and start to twist away. With a powerful tug, the Klingon also shifted his own weight back to avoid toppling forward and force the arm and the other's body back to him.

In an astonishingly casual gesture, the arm lifted in an effortless circle following the pull; the movement brought forearm against forearm, squashing the cubital nerve and releasing the grip. Already unbalanced on his heels by his own traction and weight shift, the big Klingon stumbled and fell among his two smaller buddies. Instinctively, they grabbed him for balance but then, they all fell back with him on the table, tripped on the chairs and then crashed down all together in a heap of limbs, bodies and furniture.

They scrambled to their feet with growls and huffs, smashing chairs and table against the walls of the corner, gropping with their hands for their empty disruptor holsters and d'ktagh sheats.

But everyone's weapons were confiscated upon coming on the station.

Even for the six security guards now blocking the way between them and the cooly departing Andorian.

Not that those security officers needed any: they were all feline humanoids, complete with fangs and claws and the predatory instincts to use them glinting in their slitted eyes. And there was twice of them as their was of Klingons.

'' Let us see your identifications.'' growled the largest of them, wearing the gold and black uniform of a Starfleet security officer; he was literally towering over everyone: eight feet tall and looking nothing less than a walking Earth tiger. The others, more cat-like, were Caitans; but this one, with his batwing-shaped ears, was not.

He was Kzinti.

Their hate for Klingons was centuries old and well known; as much as their taste for raw flesh, including that of sentient beings... like Klingons.

His voice rumbled like the rolling thunder of an incoming storm:

'' And let us see some credits for those chairs and table. ''

His fanged smile was not friendly.



* * *




'' Face me, Andorian! ''

The growling voice was answered by a long sigh... and unheard thoughts:

I came for peace and quiet to face the future... but violence and rage still turn me back to the past.

No. No more.

At this hour, the observation deck was deserted. He had chosen this very time and place to be alone and enjoy the quietness and the silence while everybody else slept.

Klingons however, never slept until their pride and honor were satified.

The blue-skinned ghelnoid sighed and turned slowly from the vista of stars he was staring at through a wide transparency. He calmly faced the imposing Klingon blocking the exit door.

His rigid antennaes could not perceive anything from behind him; that had allowed the armor-clad warrior to easily trap him here before he could realize that he had been stalked and cornered into this deserted place.

Well done, Master, the Andorian mocked himself inwardly. You think you would have learned to take some elementary precautions after twenty Earth years of duelling...

And so, the Klingon had come.

With a bath'leth.

He threw it at the Andorian's feet with his left hand, as his right unslung another one from his own back. His fiery dark eyes bored into the silvery ones as he walked up to his chosen foe:

'' I am Krawll! Son of Kon'n of the House of Durass! My Honor will be cleansed, Andorian! ''

With his foot, the Andorian kicked the bath'leth to send it sliding back and stop at Krawll's boots, freezing him in midstride.

'' Do I look like a janitor? ''

If there had been any witness, they would have swore steam rose from the Klingon's nostrils at this very moment. The heat of anger was very much felt from his raging tone:

'' You are Andorian! The Fedrat warriors! Even your kind understands Honor! You can't deny me! ''

'' I am not denying you. I am denying myself. ''

Confusion doused a moment the fires of anger and pride in Krawll's eyes. With a tone where calm and composure where slowly but surely melting, the other then explained:

'' You, Klingons, you fight just for the sake of fighting. We do not. We never fight without a reason. And with you, I have none. ''


'' I took your seat! '' protested the Klingon as if it had been a war crime.

'' The highest throne is not worth a drop of blood. ''

'' Liar!'' roared the Klingon.

Eyes ablaze, his low, graveling voice spat like a raging volcano erupting:

'' I saw the fire in your eyes and the balance in your step! I felt the strength of your body, the passion in your voice! I saw the calluses on your hands and the scars on your brow! And I know all about your duelling tradition and the pride of your people! ''

The Andorian sighed.

'' Yes... and I am walking away from it all. ''

Now. Krawll showed his pointed teeth in a vicious snarl.

'' You will not. ''

'' I will not fight. ''

'' Then you will die! ''

The hiss of the voice swelled into that of the viciously hooked crescent blade of the bat'leth coming up, then down, to cleave him from shoulder to hip.

But the Andorian was not there anymore.

With a swift spin on one foot, he evaded the deadly strike and stepped past the charging Klingon.

And Krawll crashed against the transparency.

Had it been any kind of glass or even reinforced plastic, the powerful blade would have smashed it with the combined weight, strength and rage of the Klingon all behind it... sending him reeling into the cold, deadly void of space. Even the modern forcefields now used as windows might have been disrupted by the impact against the frame housing the emitter, so powerful was the blow.

But six inch-thick transparent aluminum was still in use on this old station. It bore a visible scratch and bent but whisthood the blow and the slamming mass of the warrior falling into it.

Krawll was instantly backswinging his blade low to hamstring his opponent barely passing him by.

But the other jumped over it with surprising agility to land right beside him as he rose again to his full height. The bath'leth swung back to chop horizontally at the midsection of the closeby body; but the Andorian stepped right against the frame of the taller warrior, so close the swing could not complete half of it's trajectory and failed to gain any damaging momentum.

Krawll grabbed his bah'tleth to lift it between both of them and strike to rake the entire torso and right up under the chin of his adversary; but a pair of powerful callused hands jammed down his wrists, stopping the upward rise before it even started.

The Klingon tried to wrestle the weapon free, then to push away the smaller, lighter body of his opponent; but it felt to him like he was trying to budge the whole station.

Shocked again by the unbeleivable strength of the dark-blue Andorian, but already aware of it, he then pushed himself swiftly away, leaving the weapon in the other's hands, rolling on his back and rising again on his feet in the same motion... but now with the other, discarded bath'leth in hands.

He snarled at the Andorian, the lust of battle boiling in his veins and quickening his steamy breath. With consumed practice, he swung the crescent-shaped weapon each side of him in wide eight-shaped circles, switching from one hand to the other with quick, precise grips until stopping the threatening display with the blade along one extended arm, growling and smiling at his opponent with pride and confidence.

The Andorian simply sighed; then, with a cold stare at his agressor, threw his own bath'leth over and behind his shoulder, as if it was but a piece of garbage.

The Klingon almost exploded with boiling outrage:

'' You... you toil'ZaH! This blade belonged my house since the time of Kahless! ''

'' Just like your foolish pride. ''

With a roar, Krawll swung again his deadly sword before him in crossing motions, advancing like a mowing machine towards the Andorian.

Just as the swinging cutting edge would hit, the blue-skinned ghelnoid dropped flat on the ground and rolled under the entire chopping motion, right into the legs of the Klingon. Reflexively, the warrior jumped over the rolling body and half turned with a backhand strike towards the floor and the prone form... only to have the tip of the heavy weapon get stuck in the deckplates.

His foe rolled back up to his feet as the Klingon tore his blade from the ground to strike anew. But now, too close once more for an easy swing, he found every movement countered. The infuriatingly cool Andorian had each of his every move deflected with his open hands on his shoulders, elbows, wrists and arms, or his shoulders, hips, knees and feet jammed with his own.

When Krawll finally managed to distance himself from the obstructing opponent, it was only to find his wild swings evaded, dodged, too far to touch or too close to complete.

One moment he was trying to strike a ghost; the next, he was trying to wrestle an octopus... only to see it turn into a ghost when he was about to grab it... and then having the ghost entangling him in his own limbs just as he thought he was about to cut it down.

And all this time, never even once did the Andorian attempt to strike back... or flee.

It went on like this for seconds... minutes... an eternity...

Because of his much higher metabolism, the Andorian was too fast for the Klingon, avoiding and countering each and every move; but because of this very heightened metabolism, he was also tiring quickly.

Too quickly...

The elusive dance of death between raging, charging Klingon and calm, eluding Andorian went on... and on... and on... until, finally, the Andorian, heavily panting, sweating, barely able to stand, let alone evade or flee, staggered back, silvery eyes blurry with fatigue and resignation.

Heavily panting, sweating, barely able to stand, let alone swing his heavy blade, the Klingon staggered back, eyes blurry with fatigue and confusion.

Then, with a snarl of impotent rage, Krawll lifted his bath'leth high one last time... and threw it down hard on the ground in complete, utter disgust.

With leaden feet and slumped shoulders, he made a step, then slowly went to his knees... and fell down on his face, out cold from sheer exhaustion.

At that moment, the access doors wooshed open and in came three station security guards: two massively muscled Humans and the colossal Kzinti officer from the bar leading them.

With a clawed finger, the felinoid pointed to the exhausted Klingon. As the two gold-clad men lifted him up, strongly secured between them, Krawll was already regaining consciousness. But he was much too exhausted to offer even token resistance.

'' Krawll-of-Klingon-Defense-Force, intoned the towering Kzinti in his low, powerful growl, you have violated station regulations by troubling the peace, unautorized transport, introducing weapons illegally and assaulting a Federation citizen with a weapon. You will be detained until your government and superior officers decide your faith. ''

The Kzinti then bent his immense torso to bring his frightening feline face inches from the Klingon's dazed expression:

'' I'm sure they will be most lenient towards you, after they will hear how you sneaked in, assaulted an unarmed civilian... and then even failed to kill him... all over a bar seat. ''

No Klingon ever bore more shame on his sweating, exhausted face than Krawll, son of Kon'n of the House of Durass.

With a contemptuous dismissal gesture, the Kzinti officer sent the two other guards away with their barely walking prisoner. Then, he went to the panting Andorian lying shakily against a wall. His silver eyes were still trying to focus as they blinked slowly, while his cranial appendages darted in and out from inside his white-haired mane.

Didn't knew Andorian antennaes could do that. Observed silently the gigantic tiger-like humanoid. His wide black nostrils were filled with the fruity scent of the other's sweat-covered body:

'' You alright? '' purred the Kzinti.

Still panting, the dark blue-skinned ghelnoid looked around, then back into the slitted blue eyes of the felinoid officer:

'' Lucky... for me... Klingons... have a... high... metabolism... too... and much... blinding and... tiring... rage. ''

'' You are one of the passengers on the SS Azura bound for the Sol system. ''

The other nodded to the security officer, palming the sweat from his brow.

'' To... Earth... San Francisco...''

The Kzinti helped him up,while his eyes fell upon the bath'leth of the arrested Klingon on the ground near them.

And then, at the other end of the room, he spotted another curving sword, lying under a wall bench.

His keen senses told him from the undisturbed setting that no battle had happened over there.

As the Andorian recovered his breath and his balance, the Kzinti went to retrieve both weapons. In his sensitive hands, he felt the heat and sweat from the grip of the Klingon's hands on the handle of the first one; his eyes saw the fresh nicks on one of the points... but none along the blade. The other one was completely cool and dry... and unblemished.

He instantly knew then that these swords had never clashed.

Coming back to the now standing and focused Andorian, the towering Kzinti rumbled:

'' Don't tell me you fought barehanded against an armed Klingon warrior! ''

The Andorian lifted eyes and antennaes at the taller felinoid:

'' No... I did not fight. ''

For a moment, the officer just blinked at him. Station sensors had recorded the unautorized transport of the armed Klingon to this area and only a bar fight caused by two other Klingons had detained the entire station's small security force from immediately coming after him.

Thirty minutes ago.

The giant Kzinti officer shook his head in disbelief:

'' Half an hour alone with an angry, armed Klingon who obvioulsy passed out from sheer exhaustion... And you, an Andorian, you... did not fight... ''

The white-haired, antennae-sporting head simply shook.

'' Why? ''

The Andorian raised himself fully up, crossed his hands behind his back, looked at the black and gold uniform of the Kzinti security Ensign and said with calm strength in his deep, soft voice:

'' I want to be a Starfleet officer. ''





The End

[Kheren]

READER COMMENT


An intresting story! I liked the descriptions. Describing without boring the reader is a hard task, and this writer does it very well. You can really tell the charecters emotions. Please continue to add to this intriguing and very exciting story!


James Picard 04-15-2011 09:34 PM

[Kheren]

AUTHOR'S REPLY


Thank you for the praise. As for a follow up, this is the background story of my LF RP character. You can therefore follow the rest of his Starfleet career by reading the following LF RP novelized stories (in chronological order):

- Starbase 10: Captive Starbase
- USS Lotus: Changing of the guard (novelization upcoming)
- USS Lotus: Against the grain
- USS Lotus: Knight's sacrifice (novelization upcoming)
- 1st Fleet Action: Borg Invasion 
- Starbase 10: Borg Invasion aftermath (Unovelized)
- Starbase 10: The festival of Holy Rings of Betazed (Unovelized)
- USS Artemis: Before the storm
- Starbase 10: Sisko's memorial
- USS Artemis: Port in the storm
- Starbase 10: Eye of the storm
- USS Artemis: I alone survived
- USS Artemis: Romulan paradox
- Starbase 10: Fool's Errand (45th Star Trek Anniversary special))
- 2nd Fleet Action: Crusade
- USS Horizon: The Forgotten
- USS Horizon: Hawks and Doves
- 3rd Fleet Action: Brave New World
- Starbase Lotus: New Horizons
- USS Millennium: When no one has Gone Before (ongoing)