#15--Bloodbath Chapel

The moment Korav hopped off the transporter pad onto the dingy streets of downtown Camchee city, his senses immediately began searching for signs of a bar, pub, any kind of watering hole of the alcoholic kind. Such was his eagerness to begin indulging in his favorite pastime.

'Ship's docked, Siridon's fixing it, everyone's planetside, it's time to get smashed!' Korav happily thought to himself as he strolled through the crowded streets of the Klingon capitol.

He found a spot just north of the traders' port (a section of the space port sectioned off for off-worlders to conduct 'non-Klingon' trade). It was a dingy place, but Korav got a feeling that it was just the right spot to avoid the Xenophobic elements of Klingon society while still getting a good taste of the party side of this warrior culutre.

He stepped up to the bar and ordered a pitcher of blood wine, paying with some Orion latinum he'd procured from the Copernicus people on Hope One. The bartender looked at Korav with distaste at the obviously Orion-pressed strip of latinum.

"Got it out of a slave dancer's thong." Korav said as he raised the pitcher to his lips.

The barkeep slammed the rim of the pitcher down with a big, meaty hand. Korav glared daggers at the Klingon, hand instinctively reaching for a hidden knife. The barkeep reached into a pocket and produced a tricorder. He scanned the latinum and nodded in satisfaction once the result came in. To Korav's relief, the barkeep took his hand off the pitcher and stomped off to attend to his next customer.

'Asshole.' Korav thought to himself as he finally began chugging his bloodwine.

-----------

An odd odor stood out from the bellowing bulls about her. Instead of hair grease and sweat she smelt a thick collection of aftershave. Her head turned to the newest member at the bar, who was blocked from her

by a thick, Klingon arm.

A non-Klingon, Nembia exhaled in relief although she turned her attention back to the tender. A tender which no longer paid her any mind. Nembia's breath sucked back into her lungs and her eyes darted

toward the creepy eyed, bean pole on her right. Was that latinum in his hand? Orion-pressed latinum? Her eyes shifted toward the tender as anger laced heat radiated from his shaggy skull.

"Got it out of a slave dancer's thong." Korav said as he raised the pitcher to his lips.

His words made her nostrils flare and her lips to curl at their corners; an expression she often made when she was assumed but wished to keep it private. The slam of the barkeep's hand made her jump, bouncing the backpack against her shoulders. Surely the weight would pulled the curls from her hair. She would of reached up and over her shoulders to free the strains if she weren't suddenly aware of the Klingon's thoughts.

<~ Damned Spacerats. War mongrels. If this is tin I'm pop his head clean off. It would be real easy like, like popping a-...oh...it's real. I feel stupid. Why do I always misjudge people?~> Nembia watched the

Klingon's expression as she heard his unvoiced dialog, noting the harsh look deepen in his skin as he berated himself.

To Korav's ( and Nembia's) relief, the barkeep took his hand off the pitcher and stomped off to attend to his next customer.

'Asshole.' Korav thought to himself as he finally began chugging his bloodwine.

"Oh, I think he likes you." Nembia's eyes widened as she gave a spastic, lip-pressed smile. Her scar elongated and twisted into her cheek. She glanced him over again. Poor dresser. Hasn't see a hair

stylist in years. Were those little brown hairs sticking out of his nose? Ew. Well, he might not be the most groomed person but at least he wasn't Klingon.

"Look, do you know..." She began to say but he cut her off with another thought.

'Great. What the hell does scarface want???" Korav rolled his eyes. "Yah? Whaddya want?" He said a bit breathlessly. The bloodwine kicked more than he'd remembered. Either his memory was getting bad, or his

body was losing it's famed alcohol tolerance because of his time out in space.

Very quickly Nembia's smile died. Her brow twitched once before it perched upon her forehead and her body turned to face him. The Klingon standing between them looked from her sizzling eyes down to the hand upon her hip. He took his drink and moved toward a table.

Scar face?! Nembia's interior voice rumbled. She was hurt by his thought and left self-conscience by it. Unintentionally she rose her fingers tips to her scar, tracing the grove from her upper lip to its

stopping point an inch away. Quickly her nails closed into her palms and she set the side of her hand sharply upon the bar. Her free hand rose from her hip and tugged her hair from the bag upon her back.

"I -want- you to back off a little. How much aftershave do you use?" Nembia turned to face the barkeep, resting the underside of her arms counter and clasping her hands.

"Aftershave???" Korav made an attempt to sniff his chin. "Last time I shaved was...."

"Hey!" She barked at the tender as though Korav never responded. "I asked about Marian drinks." As the keep turned disgruntled eyes toward her, Nembia turned to face Korav.

"Move over, you're in my drinking space." Korav grumbled.

"I was standing here first. -You- move down." Leaning to the side, she dragged one suitcase and the other toward her until they were stacked and braced against the frame of the bar by her leg. She did not sit

down.

The tender slammed both his hands upon the bar so harshly that it vibrated and sprinkled some of Korav's drink for the pitcher. "WHAT do you want?!" The tender mocked them both as he leaned toward her.

His breath huffed in her face and she leaned against the natural bend of her spine in an attempt to move out from under him but still keep the suitcases upright. She gave a disgruntled grin, glaring her teeth at him. "I was juzzzzzzck-" she choked as the tender gripped her jacket by the shoulders and lifted her up off the ground. The suitcases fell to the floor as her hands gripped his hairy arms. Her toes brushed the floor.

Nembia's hands grasped the tender's wrist, surprised to find the bed of hair there was soft. "Maybe we could talk about this?" Her jacket began dig into her underarms where the male held up suspended. <~ Why

do people always try to piss me off!!" The Klingon shouted in his mind.

"I didn't mean to make you mad. I'm just a little tried is all. I shouldn't of yelled..." She held her breath as he pulled her toward him. Her stomach and breasts pressed flattened against the counter. The tender sniffed her. Sniffed -her-. Like he was a dog. Nembia didn't know whether to laugh at the audacity or pee herself in terror.

"Hey...." Korav called out from his spot on the bar. "More bloodwine."

The barkeep ignored the white-eyed man as he continued to choke the life out the pesky humanoid female.

"HEY!!" Korav shouted again. This time in Klingon. "MORE BLOOD WINE!" He waved his empty pitcher to get the barkeep's attention.

The waver of the pitcher caught her wide eyes and she turned her head to look at Korav. A frown pressed her lips to her chin, which was backed so far into her neck she took on the appearance of a turkey. Only her eyes turned back to the tender. "Maybe you should serve him first?" Her brows raised.

"Stupid ass...." Korav drew his arm backward and flung the pitcher right into the barkeep's face. "HOW BOUT SOME CUSTOMER SERVICE HERE??!!"

Silence filled the bar. The barkeep, stunned by the duranium drinking pitcher impacting against his skull, dropped the annoying female and turned to face the unruly customer, blood rage boiling behind his eyes.

It had only taken a slight flick of his wrist for the tender to half shoved, half placed the female down and turned his scald to Korav. <~Every one tries to piss me off!~> He thought as he stomped over to Korav. Nembia stumbled back and was catch against an observer who removed her from his person by pushing a single finger against the back of her head. She rocked forward but regained her footing before falling against the counter's ledge. Her eyes were glued on the Klingon's hand. To her it was in slow motion, arching toward Korav's face. It displaced the air around it, creating a vacuum that puckered Korav's skin toward the fist as he fell back to the floor.

Korav knew that was a stupid idea to begin with, but something made him do it. 'At least I get a good fight out of this....' he thought to himself as he braced for the gigantic fist that plowed into his face.

The force of the blow landed Korav on the floor of the bar. The other patrons laughed at the smaller man as he rolled over and righted his nose, spitting some blood out in the process.

The barkeep vaulted over the bar and landed with a thud. He advanced upon Korav, unaware that the smaller humanoid was shifting his legs and preparing for his attack.

Korav waited for the right moment before sweeping the barkeep's legs out from under him. He held the barkeep's legs in a vicious lower-body lock as he positioned his own torso and grabbed onto the larger Klingon's shin with his arms. With a swift jerk, he dislocated the unfortunate barkeep's femur with a sickening crunch. Korav was rewarded with a shriek of agony. He let go of the barkeep and stood up as the Klingon lay on the floor, shrieking and holding onto his useless leg.

BAM! Nembia shifted out of the way as she watched him collide with the floor. Hands and feet moved so fast that they blurred before her eyes. She heard a crunch and a scream of agony but her focus was on her

suitcases. There were five pairs of shoes, six handbags and enough clothes to go a two months without laundry in them. Nembia gobbled up the handles as she pressed backwards, dim-wittingly pinning herself

between Kovar's triumphant stance and the stools behind her.

"You...." He said, pointing at Nembia, "Owe me a lot of dri-." Before he could finish the sentence, Korav was knocked over by a crowd of angry Klingons. All thirsting for his blood after injuring their alcohol source. A group of Klingons rushed Nembia as well, just as bloodthirsty as the first group.

She stood upright, lifting a hand as far as she could to point to herself. He attention was soon stolen to the horde of barbarians coming toward her. "Oh, I'm not with him." The suitcase jiggled as she moved her arm to gesture to Korav. They kept coming. She took a step back, pushing a stool and it's occupant slightly forward.

"Grrrrr" she heard a grunt from above her head before the arms scooped her up. The cases dropped to the floor, stepped over and trampled on by approaching men. As one Klingon held her so tight below her breast

that formed a solid bubble up to her collar bone, another punched her directly in the gut.

A rush of air popped in the swingers face as her diaphragm bent to his blow. <~~ Hit him!~~> She forced her thoughts into the Klingon's mind as she leaned to the side. The blow that was meant for her stomach

rose and punched the person that held her directly in the face.

Nembia dropped and crawled toward her suitcases as she repeatedly thought <~~ Don't see me. Don't see me...~~> "Aaaa. Aaaa. Aaaa. That was almost my hand!" She shouted as she shot her hand out from under

an downward falling boot. <~~ Don't see me. Don't see me~~> She continued to think as she stanched up one suitcase. The other hand been kicked toward the middle of the bar, where Korav's living carcass

had been dragged. She snapped up the suitcase from between two fights and almost turned toward the door when she heard a noise.

Korav had just leg-pressed three Klingons into a crowd of their buddies. He was being held by two others behind him. Scrambling, he got himself loose, but was soon knocked to the floor by another vicious punch to the face. He landed on the floor hard, a group of Klingons was getting ready to pounce on him. He braced himself as he got hit again and again, desperately trying to figure a way out.

She couldn't just leave him there. Couldn't she? No. He had distracted the tender from shaking her to death. <~~ Leave him alone. And you. And you. And you.~~> She glared at each of the Klingons that had

formed a circle around him until they, one by one, turned off from him to engaged with someone else.

Korav couldn't believe it. The vicious pummeling suddenly stopped, and the melee shifted elsewhere. Dazed, he crawled on all fours towards the exit, spitting out blood and chunks of flesh from his mouth. He ran right into the idiot woman who'd almost gotten him killed earlier. Something told him that he owed his fortunate rescue to her.

"Wha-wha happe-?" Korav muttered as he got to his feet.

"Well don't stand there asking stupid questions! Come on!" Nembia shouted as she turned on her heel and ran toward the door. The Klingons parted from her, swallowing her up and blocking Korav off if he didn't follow on her heels. Outside she did not stop until she was several stores down from the bar. Turning in place she plopped her back against a stone wall and looked back toward the bar. "What the hell. I knew Klingons were violent but shit!"

"Aw come on... it was just gettin good!" Korav managed a weak chuckle. He winced as a sharp pain accompanied the gesture. He leaned on Nembia for support as he clutched tenderly at his bruised ribs.

It was just getting good? He was crazy. Worse, he was spraying blood as he talked. Nembia's face contorted as she took a side step from him, letting one of the suitcases drop as she gripped her stomach. Her feet had race so fast that the pain from the punch just now made it to her. "Ouch..." she whined as she pressed her hand into her stomach and bent over. "Oh my God," she pranced from foot to foot as tears stung her eyes. "That really does hurt. Hey, humph," She grunted as Korav leaned against her. Stranger germs. She have pushed him off her and half let him slide down the wall on his own. He looked even more like hammered shit.

Well, there go my plans for getting wasted tonight....." Korav muttered as he sat down against a wall to take a breather. "What the hell kind of race are you anyway? Mari, you said?"

"I think you're already wasted." Nembia moaned and whimpered and whined as she slowly lowered to sit, dragging the suit case underneath so that her pants wouldn't come into contact with the street. She felt as though she hadn't defecated in two weeks. Like all the feces was piled up on top of each other and about to bust from her stomach. Her hair flapped over her head as she doubled over. The backpack slid and knocked against the ridge of her skull.

"Yeah." She replied to his question about her race.

"Oh....never ran into one of those before. What quadrant?" Korav took out an oil rag and did his best to wipe the blood from his face. The grime and engine lubricant were much more preferable to the sight of

blood, and attracted far less attention.

"Delta. Oh this -hurts-." She had punched people in the gut before but never actually of been punched. Hissing through her mouth, she leaned back against the wall. The backpack was lumpy and uncomfortable, a distraction from the pain. With her arms about her stomach she rolled her head to look at his puffy face.

"Why do you ask?"

"Wanted to know how you pulled your little stunt back there." Korav replied.

"You like hell." With a pout she turned to watch dead ahead of her. Seems that two beat up people sitting against buildings was normal for this place. No one seemed to take note of them. "I've never been to this shit hole before. Where can I go to eat and sleep without kicking punched?"

The Captain let out another painful laugh. "This is Qo'Nos! You kidding me? You'll have to fight just to get food here!"

"Oh, oh Gods. Is there no such place here?"

"I own a ship, the Seiklon Axel." Korav said, getting up. "She's docked in orbit, and the Siridon Arms techs are working on her. I could find you a room in the Corporation HQ with the rest of my crew, but you're gonna have to agree to one thing."

Nembia rose her head to watch him raise, blinking away little flakes of grime from the wall that he sprayed when he hosted himself up. Her mouth was slightly ajar as she stared up at him, one side of her face lifted in an expression of discomfort and pain. He had a ship. A ship would not be -here- on this horrible place. Yug, was that a wrap with a half eaten sandwich clogging to a drain pipe?

"What's that?" she pondered what request he might have.

"You work for me." Korav said, helping her up. "I'll make sure you get paid, a place to stay, and something to eat. What's your background?"

Work for him? How hires someone that just got into a bar fight with them? What kind of employment was this. "Work for you?" She repeated his words as if she couldn't believe it. She allowed him to take her by the elbow and to toe butt the suitcase out from underneath as she stood.

Once upon her feet she turned to face him. "Whoa. What a minute "friend". I appreciate the distraction at the bar but, ha, you know...I don't know what kind of ship you're running. Last job I had I thought I was being hired as an Engineer and it turned out they wanted me to fix their fricking septic system. I -am not- going to do that kind of shit again." Her jaw tightened as she spoke about her previous employment and she shook her hand toward the sky. One arm still hugged her stomach and she gave a small prance and a quiet "ooooowww."

"Hmm....." He rubbed his chin, still smarting from a well-placed kick. "We do need an engineer. Daius is always complaining about not having any help with the warp core. You up for it?"

Her ooooowwwing ceased. Her hand fell and she stood upright. With her hips cocked to the side and a hand on her hip she asked, "Warp core? Really?"

"Yeah....what do you think we have on a starship? A cuisinart?" Korav remarked sarcastically.

Her eyes shifted as did her feet until she stood with her legs together and her arms crossed. What was he thinking. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to read his mind.

"Well? I take it that's a yes then...." Korav pulled out a battered communicator from his spacer's coat and punched in the frequency for the Siridon HQ.

"Do you usually find employees in this way? What do you do on this ship of yours?"

"Yeah, more or less. We do odd jobs between the Alpha and Delta Quadrants. Latest mission was a shipment of arms to the Hope One Dyson Sphere. Some punks called the Jhovans starting a war or something." Korav informed her.

Nembia's scared lip flickered as she contemplated his words. She was not very "worldly" as her brother had pointed out on more than one occasion. She would be the first to tell anyone that she was too selfish to pick up a padd and learn about what all was going on in places that didn't directly affect her. If it wasn't just around the corner or if it wasn't for sale Nembia could care less about it. The only acknowledgement she had given the recent war was a vent of frustration when her favorite sales clerk at Malrac's joined the

effort. What she did know about Hope One was that is an engineering marvel and that it contained several strip malls where one could buy both Allansious dresses and Belimar footwear.

Korav's communicator beeped as someone on the other side picked up his hail.

=/\= Hey, it's Korav. Who's this? =/\= Korav said.

=/\="Captain, this is Roquel. Is there something wrong?"=/\= The girl asked hesitantly.

=/\= I need two beamed out from my location....including myself. Preferably to where Kim's staying. We're both kinda injured. =/\=

=/\="Injured! O.K. umm give me a minute."=/\= The comm channel remained open, but the sound on Roquel's end had been muted. She turned to her pug-faced, but sociable companion of the moment, her roomie Starr. "See! That is why I didn't want to get off the ship here. The captain has been off ship for just a few hours and already he's been attacked by Klingon's. I am not leaving the compound....I AM NOT!"

June Starwalt (Starr) quieted the irrational woman and took the communicator from her hand. =/\=Korav, it's Starr, who do you suggest we contact to get you beamed over?"=/\=

=/\= See what YOU can do. You're all Siridon employees, so your thumb scan should get you into the transporter room. Do it quick, got it? =/\=

=/\="Got it. Starr, out."=/\= Starr handed back the communicator and waited while Roquel stashed it back into the pocket in her jumpsuit. Pointing from Roquel and then to the room floor, Starr gave Roquel an order delivered with a stern face. "You....Stay here!. I don't want you anywhere near Korav and whoever he's got with him. He doesn't need to see you flippin with this Klingophobia attitude of yours. I'll take care of this." Starr headed for the door. Once in the hall she addressed the computer system. "Computer, upload a map of the facility to my padd. I need the quickest route from this location to the nearest transporter room."

"Working." A male voice responded from the wall speaker. "Complete." Starr checked the route and set off at a run which thundered the corridor floor.

Nembia watched the captains face as he spoke, listening to the conversation between him and whoever it was still aboard the ship. Odd wasn't it; that he was alone? Being the captain he should have -some- crew members with him. It was obvious that he needed the protection. She looked over his swollen cheek, the busted lip, a black mark fogging about his temples. It was a wonder he was still standing. She glanced at his hand. There she spied a knuckle set askew, twisting at an angle as though he was pointing toward the left in a way no fingers should be able to. She judged the normally of this for whatever race he might be by glancing at his other fingers, distracted from his assumption that she would go with him.

Korav said nothing as he felt the familiar grip of the transporter beam take hold of his body. The last thing that went through his mind was <~How the hell did she get all those Klingons to back off of me?~>

She heard his thoughts but ignored it. Wasn't his business anyway and besides, she began to feel a similar sensation to a band-aid being removed. They were transporting. "Hey!" She shouted as she lunged down

and place her hands on the suitcases. She arrived onboard the ship hunkered down with her arms outstretched as far as they could go and the yellowy brown fabric of the cases below her hand. It took several breaths before she lifted her head and glared at him from under the brow of her forehead. "I hadn't agreed yet." she stated flatly as she rose to stand, looking toward the other occupant in the transporter

room.

"Well whaddya want? A written invitation?" Korav cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She asked the crew member. "Get my bags." She stated as she stepped off of the transporter platform.

"Get your own damned crap, Princess." Starr said to the arrogant arrival. As the woman's jaw dropped she addressed Korav with a coarse yet friendly greeting. "You look like sh*t....again. Did you have fun?"

"Hell yeah!" The Captain replied with a lopsided smile (due to minor some minor swelling of his lip). "It was at least twelve of 'em this time!"

Starr understood Korav. He was a wild card (most of the time) that liked to live on the edge of oblivion. A bar fight, a drunken space-walk, an intergalactic battle...these things were all the same to him. Something to test his mortality. "Good to hear." She said beaming him a broad smile.

Ger your own crap, Princess? Nembia's jaw unhinged but a few seconds before a sloth-like smirk replaced her stunned expression and her right eyebrow rose into her hairline. She listened to the interaction between this woman and the "captain" as they painted their own pictures for her. Rouges. Roughens. Hard-asses. Her leveled stare at Starr turned to Korav as he spoke.

"Alright missy," Korav said, turning to eye Nembia. "If you're gonna stay here, you'll have to give me something in return. I don't care for money, but I do need crew. It looks like you're out of a job, you've got no place to stay, and you've sure as hell proved that you can't make it on your own on this planet. Now, are ya gonna sign up or do I have Starr here send you back to the bar?"

Apparently there was a negotiation in progress here...Korav style! 'Time to play my part.' Starr laced her fingers together and stretched her arms to crack her knuckles. Then, she returned her hands to the transporter controls and let them lightly drum the controls while she awaited the woman's decision. <~"Choose, girly. I got nothin to lose."~`>

Princess? Missy? This were names she liked. When Korav mentioned that he needed something in return her first instinct was to smack him so hard against his cheek that the swollen bubble puffing there would pop out on the other side. She continued to listen however, hips cocked as if she were showing off some formal ball gown. Work to stay. That didn't seem like an outlandish proposal but she was offended that he stated she couldn't survive on her own in -that- place.

Politically, she choose not comment that he would have been beaten to death if she had not forced her will upon the Klingons. And at a great risk to herself. There was a firm belief within the Mari that forcing their wills upon others would not only shorten their lives but bring hardships upon them. Despite her alternative views in comparison to her people she was subject to their superstitions and pondered that mayhap her manipulating the thoughts of others throughout the years was why she found herself in her current position.

She drifted in self-reflection for a moment until Starr's thoughts interrupted her own. Girly now? Well, that was better than what most

people called her in their minds. Who was this person thumbing the controls as if she were dipping a lure in water? Who was she that

instantly barked back instead of acting stunned and stupidly obeying?

Nembia was already off of the transport platform and so did not worry that she'd be beamed back on the first syllable she uttered. Turning around and leaning down, She pulled both suitcases out of the beam's radius. She glanced at Starr before turning her face to Korav. He was unstable, that was apparent, and his eyes where creepy with their powder sugar glaze. She looked back to Starr. Chances were she wouldn't like her. She reminded her too much of herself, however, there was intrigue there.

Her eyes draped over Starr's form as though she was judging her ability to throw the woman. A slow, annoying sucking noise crackled

against her teeth as she dragged her teeth from one side of her jaw to the other. Finally she spoke to Korav.

"I won't work just to keep my stay." She began. "I want wages and my own quarters." She gave a slivery smile. She didn't have to read his thoughts to assume he was thinking that she had no place to demand anything. "I'm a damned good programmer and engineer Captain Korav. I'm indispensable (If they could stomach her attitude), you'll see that."

"You'd better be..." Korav said with a sly smirk. "Welcome aboard."

Against her will, Starr felt impressed by the woman that Korav had brought with him. She didn't shrink back from the abrasive comments from her or the proposition that Korav had offered. To Starr, this meant she had mettle enough to join the Axel crew. The only thing that remained to be seen was whether she actually had the ability that she said she had. Starr pulled her fingers off the controls of the transporter and allowed a small smile and wink to pass from her to the newbie

Nembia glanced to Starr, giving her a Cheshire cat grin. "Well then, show me to my room."

"Alright, then. But injured or no, I'm not carrying your bags." Starr said making sure the girl knew where the line would be drawn between them. She stepped down from the transporter station and headed for the door, assuming the woman would follow.

"Not so fast." Korav said, holding up a hand. "You're coming with me to Kim's room. We've set up a temporary aid station there with some supplies from the Axel. You and me need to get cleaned up. I also want her to get a look at where they hit you. Grab your bags, let's go.....Princess."

Nembia rolled her eyes to the back of his head. The likely meant the term "princess" to be an insult but she adored it and walked more

upright and with her chest more forward than she had before. That is until a pain in her gut cut against her spine's grain and she sloped. Maybe Korav was right and she should be checked.

Starr halted and turned in time to see the woman's faltering posture. "You heard the captain. Off ya go." As Nembia reached for her bags, Starr put up a hand to stop her. "Changed my mind. You don't look like your gonna make it to far with the weight your packin' in there." She plopped a meaty hand down on the handles of the two bags and appeared to struggle to get them off the floor. "Geez, what did you bring with ya..a gravity magnifier?" This was just a weak joke intended to put a smile on the woman's face. It didn't work. Korav led Princess out of the room and down the corridor. Starr followed closed behind carrying each bag with just one finger.

---later---

Korav rang the chime on Kim's door. <~ Hope she sleeps late. Damn, I need a drink....~> he thought to himself.

Kim heard the chime, and got up out of bed. She threw on a silk robe, and was tying the sash, when she opened the door. Seeing the captain, she self-consciously tried to pull the stray hairs that framed her face behind her ears. "What's going on?" she asked.

Nembia only assumed he was actually like she was the one that needed this Kim person because he was too mucho to admit that he had taken the brunt of the attack. His thoughts confused her however. Why would he want to prolong their medical inspections just drink. Poor smuck must want to dull the pain. She watched him sway at the door (or was it her world that tilted?) Curiously she lifted the end of her shirt, ignoring the drag of the case against her legs.

"Well, this has been real fun and all..." Starr said from across the room. "but, I think I can find a more fun place to be right now. Later Korav, Kim...Princess." She said nodding to each of them in turn and flourishing one arm to mock the woman as she left. Starr pressed to door release and took a step out. She stopped short of leaving the room to glance back. "Hey. One of these days you can tell me your real name, but I won't promise to use it." Then she proceeded to leave before receiving an answer.

"Hey Kim." Korav waved. "Princess here needs to get looked at. Someone ouched her in the tummy...."

"Let's get you inside," Kim said. Entering the infirmary, she said, "Lights! Ernie!" Kim hoped the EMH would appear promptly, but the program had been acting up ever since the new doctor arrived.

"Shit!" Nembia stated, bent over herself. The bruise was a bluish black and had warped her skin until it coated out from the impact mark to her rips. She felt faint. Tenderly she touched her pinkie to the flesh and wiggled from the pain. "Ach. I didn't realize it was that bad..."

"No, look at her first. She's worse off." Korav said as he shuffled into the room, replicated himself a bottle of whiskey, and settled down a bit stiffly onto the nearest couch.

Unless Korav had modified the ship's replicator, that bottle was mostly synthenol, and would only get him mildly buzzed. He was doing that macho, 'take my buddy first, doc, he's hurt worse than me' bit. Kim decided to move quickly--it was always the macho schmuck that died in the movies. The captain had more than a few character flaws, but overall, Kim adored him. He'd taken her in, and was allowing her to learn about medicine. He trusted her to take care of the crew, and she wasn't about to let him down.

Nembia followed Kim inside. She looked pretty young to be a doctor but then again, this was a crackpot crew anyway. She obeyed where to set her bags and allowed herself to be pampered over to a cot where upon she tried to sit. Her neck rose with the effort and she grunted against the pain of arching up on her heels and laying back.

"So this isn't the Axel I take it?" She asked all three of them. Eyeing the glass of brown liquid that Korav took from the replicator

she inquired toward him. "Could you zap me out some of that?"

"No it's not, and only if you're paying." Korav laughed.

" OUCH! That hurt!" She barked as Kim felt her bare stomach. "How experienced at this are you?"

Kim ran the tricorder over the young woman's abdomen, "Enough." Enough experience, or enough talk, was not specified. Either way, she was the only medical personnel on duty, so she had to be 'enough.' Kim tried not to look at the horrible scar on the woman's lip. She wondered what Ernie or the doctor would say about reconstruction. A chunk of tissue was missing, so this probably required a specialist. "A couple of broken ribs, and a great deal of internal bleeding--most of your internal organs are bruised," Kim said. "What were you two doing?"

"Klingons." Korav replied. Realizing the implications of that comment, he immediately began roaring with maniacal laughter, which degenerated into a fit of painful coughs mixed in with more bouts of laughter.

The list the infant medical personal checked off was not comforting Nembia oozed back against the table with a sigh, giving the appearance that she had been through this before. "Well scan me some more, inject me, wrap me tight..." Her wrist rolled as she spoke. To Korav's comment her brow perked. Within her closed mouth her tongue wiggled from a taste of disgust. She gave a chuckle despite the mental image and shifted uncomfortably on the table. "More like they were doing us."

"Yeah, the bartender had it out for you, princess." Korav said, taking another swig.

"We -were- lucky to get out of there. I- SWEET SASAPHRASE, warm your hands please!" Was she deceased? Nembia eyeballed Kim from her long black hair to her tiny toes before she turned her eyes back to the Captain. "I can't believe one punch from a Klingon would bust me up this badly. Not a good first impression." Nembia rolled as she was instructed, mashing up her face in a contortion of pain. The scar upon her lip sizzled up beneath her nose and then recoiled as she laid flat once more. "Aaaa. How long will this take? Still didn't get that drink."

Korav got up out of his couch and handed the bottle to her. "Here you go, princess. If only to shut you up." He then shuffled over to Kim's medical bag and helped himself to some dermal regenerators and painkillers. "How did you get those guys off of me, anyway?" He directed his gaze toward the strange woman he'd met at the bar, curiosity going through his mind.

"There's no better way." Nembia swung the bottle out from his hand and, directed it straight to her lip and took a large swig. The liquid was tart and burned the carpet texture of her throat. She gave a shiver and a loud "TSK!", took another gulp and handed him the Hell Water back. "It's cheap." She commented below her breath.

She could hear Kovar's curiosity more as a feeling than as a voice. Of course he was curious. Apparently he either had forgotten that she told him her race or he did not know that the Mari were telepathic. If he didn't already know what he should assume, why should she tell him? Perhaps being telepathic without the others realizing it would work to her advantage. Besides, people got all uncomfortable and thought of the strangest crap when they knew she could implore their minds to share.

Nembia gave a weak, one shouldered shrug. " Maybe they thought you were already dead. You were fighting well enough to pass as a corpse." She gave a small grin, watching the bottle retreat with him. After a pause and a patchy exhale she commented, "Seriously though, thanks for trying to distract the bartender. I don't know what he would of done had you not."

Kim observed the two patients as she went about patching them up. This was a side of Korav that she seldom saw. Oh sure, she'd seen him drunk, but he was being tender to someone less fortunate. It wasn't that he saved his best manners for the paying customers; he'd been kind before. He was being kind when he let her stay on board and learn nursing. Something about this situation was different. The playful teasing had underlying tones. There was something about his manner that said, "Don't pick on her."

"He wouldn't give me my drink." Korav said, running the dermal regen over his scraped up face. "Besides, it wasn't a fair fight. He could've crushed your royal neck with his pinky."

"Ha! Well, he couldn't of messed up my face anymore."

Considering the captain's mood, Kim opted for not commenting on the woman's appearance. Working quickly and silently, she finished with the newcomer, then she bandaged Korav's ribs.

"True...." Korav sighed as he submitted himself to Kim's ministrations. "Hey Kim, you learn that from Ernie?" He remarked as she worked.

"Yup," Kim answered. "Ernie believes in being able to administer first aid, even under the most primitive conditions. He says that there won't always be a state-of-the-art bio-bed and instruments at my disposal. I have to be able to improvise, and according to him, some of the old ways are the best ways."

"Had an old medic back in the unit who used to do that." Korav laid his head back on the couch. "Never thought I'd see that technique again."

When Kim finished using the anabolic protoplaser to regenerate damage to the captain's face, she gave them a choice. "I'd like to keep the two of you for observation, but you'll need something for pain. Considering that you've both been drinking, I can either get you another bottle, or administer rexlin, but you can't have both."

Nembia listened to them dribble about medicine, unaware of Kim's thoughts, as she eyeballed the room. This was definitely not a Marian cruise ship. Her eyes roamed over the various electric do-das, noting some that she had dissected in class. That hologram projector...that was from what, the 2380's? She gave a snort as she turned her head to watch Kim button up the Captain's face with a protoplaser. The old ways were probably promoted by this Ernie guy because it was one of the ONLY ways they could fix people around here.

When Kim offered them drink or rexlin she finally chimed in. "Leave me some booze." Far better to drink in her painkiller than be injected with it. Her head turned as she watched Kim walked toward the replicator. Whoever thought to put on right in the middle of sickbed should be French Kissed. "Vodka." She commented before rolled her head back to Korav. The pillow stuffing crinkled in her ear and her hair bulb-ed up at her crown. His face was left whole again, unscarred by blood or tear or bruise. She looked back up to the ceiling, running her fingertips along the raven of her own scar.

"Thanks." She commented as she took the bottle from Kim, picked off the seal and opened the bottle. "Why does it generate a seal on the bottle? Seriously. Bed up." The bed began to raise until Nembia told it to stop. From her raised position (likely bad for her ribs) she took a drink from the bottle. "Is this your ship?"

"Nope," Korav said, waving around. "You're obviously not a spacer. Soon you'll know whether or not you're on a ship just by feeling the hum of the deck plates."

Please let his ship not be a piece of crap, Nembia thought as she settled the bottle in the grove between her hip and leg. "Pppppppp. I'm bored." She looked toward the doors, tapping her feet together as though she were Dorothy. "So what are you all doing here, hovering over whatever planet that was? Delivery?"

"We're waiting on our next assignment from our employers. And..." Korav said, taking another sip. "We've been invited to a wedding. Friend of ours. Diana Hunter, head of the House To'Var."

"Really? A wedding?" She gave a light snort as she took another drink. Weddings. Showy, meaningless affairs. Especially if you spend half your inheritance on the dress and the fucking groom doesn't even bother to come. Nembia took another drink. Her nails curled under the label, tearing it in groves as she set the bottle back on her hip. "What is a Klingon wedding like? Do they head butt each other instead of kiss at the end?" She gave a light chuckle, more of a shouting HA, and turned her face away to continued her visual inspection of the room. She was bored. Bored and curious. Either of which, when mixed, ended in a positive outcome for Nembia. "Ok. I have to ask. What is up with your eyes?"

Korav smirked. It always came back to the eyes. "I....stared into the heart of a warp core for too long, sucked up all the radiation into my eyes. Computer- lights!"

=/\= Lights off =/\= The female computer voice purred. The lights in the room dimmed and the glow of the lamps was replaced by the soft, milky-white glow of the Captain's eyes.

Nembia's eyelids rippled as the balls rolled in an upward arch. In the darkness thousands of backlit buttons gleamed like turquoise stars. With the lights off, she felt at ease to smirk in amusement to the misunderstand phrase. Their computer was sensitive. Wait, could he see in the dark? Her brows narrowed and her lips tugged down toward her chin. Hard knuckles pounded into the pillow behind her head, fluffing it up so that she could not feel the indention of her necklace against her spine.

Korav laughed, ordering the lights back on. "I'm lying of course."

"Yeah so listen..." she begin. It didn't take a mind-reader to know that he had to be lying about the warp core. Any idiot would know that looking into a warp core was like looking into the sun. Wasn't it? "How long do you think we'll be in here? Just the night?" Her fingers curled against her palm as she inspected her nail beds in the returned lighting. She gave a soft sigh as her fingers uncurled. Briefly she wiggled them in the air before allowing her hand to fall with a thud onto the bed. "So what is it then? Race thing?"

"I have no idea what the hell I am. They never could pin down my race. I'm just.....me." He spread his arms, a gesture of casual acceptance.

What was he really? What new species? She hadn't come across any in her PADD with milk eyes; at least not that she could recall. He seemed unmoved by not having a label. Like it didn't even bother him. Doesn't it keep him awake all night? Wondering if there was anyone else out there like him, anyone else the same? Her fingers rapped against her

stomach. Underneath her loosely replaced shirt she could feel the webbing of the wraps Kim had wound about her torso. Doesn't it drive him crazy? She chewed on her lower lip, eyes turned up and away from him. If it didn't hurt so bad to shake her leg as a nervous twitch she would of done so. Not knowing what she was would make her insane. She

knew from experience.

The bottle pacified her for a few seconds as she took heavy drinks then sat it aside. "I'm going to sleep." She partway grunted just before stating. "Computer lights." The button stars returned, blurring into a aqua fuzz as her eyelids closed.

*********************

Location: House Marstoq/Siridon HQ

K'Vrock hated to do this. His father was indeed desperate to stop the Rag'Na'Roks at all cost. K'Vrock pushed the communicator.

=/\= Urgent Message for Korav or anyone of authority aboard the Seiklon Axel. This is K'Vrock of House Marstoq. My father is Vas'Krin and it is at his request I contact you. =/\= Now he waited. These mercenaries were an unusual sort, but his father had the utmost respect for how this Korav conducted business.

=/\= Uh.... =/\= Came the reply.

K'Vrock knew they would of course be uneasy about this. =/\= My father wishes me to speak only with Korav. It is of urgency. =/\=

K'vrock wondered how he had gotten in this mess. His father plotting like a Romulan to find allies to upset the wedding of Diana Hunter. And not only this, but now his father had gone so far as to send for the adopted cousin, a human no less, and a Federation Marine to have him kill whoever was pulling J'ok's strings.

=/\= Dagnabbit!! HOLD ON!! =/\= The voice growled irritably. In the background, the man on the other end could be heard hollering irritably at someone named 'Karl' to clean up the beer stains. =/\= Lookit here, sun, but the Cap'n ain't in! The ship's in drydock and the crew's planetside. I'm just a Siridon tech, now who in the wuzits d'you need to talk to? =/\=

K'Vrock snorted. "Korav? White guy, No irises. Ghost eyes? Any of this ring a bell?" K'Vrock had resorted to the sarcasm that the Federation had enjoyed so much during his tenure.

=/\= Korav....Korav... =/\= The sound of multiple data PADDs being tossed onto the floor could be heard. =/\= Aha! Korav! Okay, uhhh.... call Siridon HQ, extension 3-1 alpha-alpha. That uh.... should be his quarters..... uh, either that or you'll be calling the Ferengi Ambassador. I'll uh, transfer you now.... If you gots any trouble, call back and uh.... yeah. =/\=

The channel went dead.

K'Vrock longed to be back aboard a Starfleet ship. At least there it was sanity, rules, and regulations. Perhaps he would return once this was over. Still, K'Vrock couldn't bear too much more of this sneaky, cloak and dagger Romulan style politics. Where had the nobility of the Klingons gone? Was there really that big of a threat?

K'Vrock looked at the chronometer again. He had tickets to the play. It was perhaps the biggest event since his return and here he was stuck making his father's shady deals.

=/\= Korav here. =/\= The Captain's voice came on over the comm.

"I have a business proposal for you." K'Vrock said with a bit of disgust at himself.

=/\= And who would you be? =/\= The Captain sounded tired, and the sound of liquid sloshing in a bottle could be heard as he was obviously taking a drink.

K'Vrock shook his head. "K'Vrock, Son of Vas'Krin and representative of House Marstoq." The man was possibly fishing in his mind for the name, despite the fact his father had dealt with him briefly before.

=/\= It's an honor.... =/\= The words rang hollow somehow, as if Korav were only extending a required formality. =/\= Now, what can I do for you? =/\=

"I am....in need of a weapon. One that cannot be traced to a Klingon or a House. My father says you have....connections."

=/\= Well.... =/\= Korav's tone changed. It was strange for a Klingon to be contacting him about something like this. He once swore he'd never get involved with local politics again, but this seemed interesting....and profitable. =/\= You do know that this is totally illegal. I cannot consent to such a deal. I'm sorry. =/\= Korav activated his personal signal scrambler as he spoke the words, only changing his tone after the scrambler indicated that this channel was now secure.

"Umm....." K'Vrock was thrown off at this. His father had insisted this was the man to contact, but he had mentioned nothing of the man having principles.

=/\= Okay, now we're on a secure channel. What the hell were you calling me on an public frequency for??? =/\= Korav said a bit irritably. =/\= You've never done this before, have you? =/\=

K"Vrock snorted. "I am a former Starfleet Engineer. What do you think? No I'm sorry, this is my first conspiracy." K'Vrock let the sarcasm he had learned from the human friends he had seep through.

=/\= I think I might know someone.... But why would you need something like that? =/\=

K'Vrock grunted. "I cannot say the why. I have tickets for Othello. If it is possible contact me later and we shall negotiate. But please

contact whomever is necessary, with discression. I prefer the names to remain....anonymous."

=/\= Alright. What kind of weapon are we talking about? Sniper rifle? Proton core launcher? Phase pistol? This is important. Would be stupid if I gave you a pistol to snipe someone with. =/\=

"The principle in charge of using the weapon has asked for a phaser rifle or disruptor. Something that is sniper capable, but handy in an assault fashion in case of .... complications." K'Vrock thought again of the grim smile his cousin had presented when approached about the job.

=/\= Okay, I can get you that. I'll contact you later once the arrangements are made to work out the details. =/\=

"Thank you. Until later then." K'Vrock ended the call. The man was anti-social it seemed, which only made K'Vrock like him more. If hids father's crazy idea worked, a Rag'Na'Rok was going to die, and if it didn't.....well, there was always time to plan for that as well.

Korav hung up the receiver with an irritated grunt. "Othello....pfft....To hell with Shakespeare." He grunted as he flipped through his contact list....

*********************

Location: House Marstoq

Capt. Steven Thorn surveyed the compound. It was as if he had never left. The years spent away with the Federation Marines had been an enjoyable experience, and now here he was, returned to his childhood. All because his adoptive uncle had requested him to come and kill someone.

Thorn was a hardened man, raised by Klingons and trained by the Marine Recon. Thorn was the man you called when things were bad, or when you needed someone dead, and in the case of his uncle, when you needed it done without any loss of honor.

Thron approached the sturdy doors of the chamber and knocked. His uncles voice boomed from the other side. "Enter." Thorn offered a smile and bow to his uncle, seated in the chair. "Greetings Uncle. I trust your wounds heal well?"

Vas"Krin nodded. "Aye, soon I will be able to run this again. But enough. This is not why I have summoned you." Vas'Krin made a wave of his hand. "Your father, Galor was a noble and honorable man. I am ashamed to ask this."

Thorn shook his head. "No, you and this house have done so much for me, I would expect no less than you to ask. Who do you want me to kill?" Thorn smiled at this. He had always enjoyed getting his hands dirty, and it was only through careful misdirection that counselors had never caught how psychotic he might truly be.

Vas'Krin smiled at this. "To business then. Do you recall House To'Var? No matter, the fact is the foul Rag'Na'Rok have plotted to seed themselves into the seats of power through a plotted marriage with Diana, the lady of the house. I cannot allow this to happen. Those vermin are a plague on whatever they touch and to give them power?!" He slipped the PADD across the table to Thorn.

"J'ok? A piece of filth to be sure, but why not expose all this information?" Thorn had flipped through the wealth of data his uncle

had passed him.

"Because the Council, in it's wisdom, has endorsed this farce. It is past the talk."

"I see....well, so when is the wedding? I'll shoot him right between the eyes as they say their vows." Thorn laughed at this, with all the

cold disposition he could muster.

*********************

Location: The Seiklon Axel; crew quarters

=^= Thedaius,

I hope the day finds you well. I have reason to believe you have not told Calvin what you have told me. You MUST do this! Perhaps it is best not to burden him with this at the moment, but ...

Either way,

If you don't tell him before he leaves Klingon space, I WILL.

Q'pla!

And Jol'anTru, Cha'riana Dk'tahg =^=

Thedaius Che'deMara stared at the screen, open-mouthed. She couldn't believe that her Klingon godmother was bringing this up NOW of all times. Thedaius had been trying to deal with an impossible situation for far too long. She didn't need to be reminded of her responsibilities, and certainly not after the day she'd had!

She readied her response, but paused, fingers over the PADD's virtual keyboard, suddenly unsure of how to respond. Should she try to reassure Cha'riana of her good intentions, or the fact that she has been attending to her 'family responsibilities' the best she can? Of course, the third option was to fire an s-mail back to the Klinzhai matriarch; offering a healthy dose of Romulan sarcasm and well-articulated venom. As pleasant as that made her feel, she knew better than to respond in anger ... or to ignore the message. After a second or two of thoughtful contemplation, Daius reached again for the PADD.

=^= Chariana, Your son, D'eVo chaL sai-Vestai Dk'tahg, is currently on a classified detail, on behalf of the Klingon Empire. So no, I am NOT going to inform him of the happy news. Not at least until his mission is over. I can assure that you I share your concerns. As a House Matriarch, you must know how difficult this has been for me. I promise you, woman to woman, that I will inform Calvin Daylek-Sloan as soon as I can.

Thank you for your support and concern in this matter.

Jo'lanTru, Thedaius Serval Che'deMara

* And NEVER threaten me again! =^=

*********************

Location: Siridon Arms Inc. Headquarters

Timeline: The Axel has just returned to Qo'Nos

The doors slid open, and Bendano Kirshov smelled the scent of the office. Siridon offices always had a very special scent about them. He liked it. Taking a deep breath, and a secont to adjust his collar, he moved on into the room. It was empty, save for one person.

The Bolian secretary looked up from her desk. "Good afternoon, mr. Kirshov. I trust your journey has been prosperous?"

Kirshov approached the desk and leant down on it. "Quite splendid. And I've finished my report ahead of schedule."

He placed a PADD on the desk. The secretary picked it up and looked it over, then tapped a few buttons and handed it back.

"I trust you'll be wanting to see Mr. Kartz." she said, refocusing her attention on her terminal.

"How's his mood?" Bendano asked.

The secretary looked up and smiled. "I'm not at liberty to say."

Bendano chuckled, as the lady pressed a button. He waited a few seconds as something bleeped.

"Mr. Kartz will see you now."

Bendano turned and headed for the door. He'd been through it a number of times, but the feeling was still pretty ominous. It swished open, and, straight from the door, easily visible, was the blue face of D'vek Kartz.

"Mr Bendano." Kartz gave slightly curt nod to the chair.

"Afternoon, sir. I gave my report to the secretary."

He nodded, "Of course. I'll read it later. Give me a summary."

"I project a profit of 72.6 percent if all goes well in the coming conflict at Hope One, though still 57.6 percent if it doesn't." Bendano smiled. "That is, of course, not counting my provision."

"That's certainly good news." Kartz lips twitched as he fought a small smile. "If that turns out to be correct, you've certainly deserve your portion."

"Thank you, sir." he said in reply. "I was wondering if you had any more assignments at the ready?"

"Are the Mercenaries ready for another mission?"

"I believe Korav and his consorts have been invited to some kind of Klingon wedding celebration. I've no desire to participate."

"I see, I've got a few, how do you humans say it, Pots on the stove. I will sort through them and pick one that need the Axel's unique talents."

********************

The Wedding

********************

Location: Pa'Whag's Pub, non-Klingon Sector, Cam Chee city

As the non-Klingons settled in to their favorite watering hole, they noticed a strange fixture in the back of their establishment. It was a stranger, Human by the look (or scent depending on your species) of him.

Hushed whispers floated about, culminating in questions to the barkeep. The Bolian simply shrugged in response. The man paid for his drinks, kept to himself, and mostly just watched the newscasts and browsed his PADD. He'd occasionally start sobbing, burying his face in his arms, laying there for a period of time before righting himself and browsing his PADD.

Yet there was something strange about him. Something about his face that chilled every non-Human in the pub to their bones. They'd recognized the face, but couldn't quite make it out under the scraggly growth of the stranger's facial hair.

The night went on, with the denizens of the bar carrying out their usual activities. The stranger ordered more drinks, and pretty soon was nodding off in a drunken stupor. Discreet scans made by curious tricorder-carrying characters showed that he had nothing of value, but was armed to the teeth with an assortment of knives and phase pistols.

Is this man a criminal? Why walk into a bar so heavily armed? Should we throw him out? What if the Klingons find him?

Questions floated around the bar in hushed whispers. The barkeep silenced them by saying that he didn't want trouble. The man would leave in his good time, and there would be no need to bother him.

While it was true that the man would have left in his own good time, that didn't prevent a group of young Klingons from barging in at that moment. They swaggered over to the barkeep and stood towering over the short, fat Bolian. Disdainfully, the leader of the bunch demanded a table. If clients had to be moved, then so be it.

The Bolian, terrified of what would happen to his establishment, reluctantly complied.

Finding the lone man sitting at the table, the Bolian shuffled over and gently tapped the man on the shoulder. "Eh....p-please, kind sir, these gentlement need a table for their group, and you're the only one at th-this table so...."

The barkeep was promptly shoved aside by the lead Klingon. He sized up the strange Human with a murderous glare. Deeming him unworthy of the seat, the Klingon reached out to yank the Human from his seat.

In a split second, the Klingon was in a bent arm bar, his forearm locked in a painfully awkward angle with the Human's forearm pressed down on a pressure point in the back of his neck. The Klingon's friends drew their Dk'tahgs and circled the stranger.

The Human leaned his face closer to the Klingon's. The acrid stench of beer and ale issued forth from the Human's mouth as he spoke. "Izz-sn't this th-the non-Klingon sector? Wh-whaddyad-doin here?"

The Human was DRUNK! The lead Klingon could not believe that he'd been bested by a drunken member of one of the frailest species in the quadrant! "We are KLINGONS!! On our HOMEWORLD!! We go where we please, spacer SCUM!!" With a mighty roar, the brash young Klingon threw off his attacker. A sickening popping sound could be heard, accompanied by a painful grunt. The Human landed sprawled out on the floor with the Klingon standing over him, holding his arm at an awkward angle.

Even through in his alcohol-induced stupor, the Human recognized the accents in the Klingons' speech. They were nobility. No doubt highborn brats out to bully around the non-Klingons. Killing them here would attract too much attention.

As the Human laid there, the rest of the Klingon's friends circled him while two others helped pop their leader's shoulder back into it's socket. By now, the bar had vacated, and the barkeep was in hiding. The Human decided that now was the time to make his move.

Jumping up, the Human unsheathed a hidden blade and sunk it into the thigh muscle of the Klingon to his left. Staggering away from his victim, the Human stumbled clumsily out the door with the band of Klingons hot on his trail. He plunged into the crowd, quickly losing the group in the mass of beings. It was here, in the non-Klingon sector that the Human had the advantage. He was diminuitive in height, easily blending into the crowd, while his seven-foot pursuers stood out like trees on a savannah.

Making his way through the crowd, the Human isolated one of his targets. Setting one of his phase pistols to stun, the Human snuck up behind the Klingon and stunned him at point-blank range.

The move was executed perfectly, even drunken as he was, the Human swiftly got underneath the limp form of the Klingon and pretended to help him stagger into an alleyway. The crowd moved on, never suspecting a thing.

Dumping a bucket of refuse water onto the Klingon's face, the Human put a sharpened knife to the Klingon's throat. The frightened young Klingon opened his eyes. The first thing he felt was a blade to his throat. The first thing he saw was the pair of dog tags dangling in front of his face, a familiar name etched into the metal. He immediately knew who this man was, and anger boiled in his eyes as he looked up at the man, whose hated face had appeared on many a news cast.

"Listen up....I'm on-ly gunna say thizz one once. 'Kay?" The Human mumbled. "Wh-where's Diana? Sh-she's head of H-House To'Var....."

*********************

Location: House Tovar

Time: Night before wedding

The To'var estate looks like a medieval knight or lord's house--massive stonework, narrow windows, even dragon's teeth on top of towers. Enough room for family, advisors and guests. Servants and mercs have housing and barracks behind. Huge front lawn, crops and cattle in back. All property surrounded by a high wall. That wall is just for appearances, it's backed by a force field that can be set for anything from static shock to flash fry. The rest of the estate has also been brought into the 25th century--security systems, alarms, etc. One bright spot in all this grey, on the east side, (that's right of the front door), there is a landscaped garden of exquisite beauty. There is a koi pond, and several places to sit or meditate. Upon entering, the imposing presence of Ta'rok To'var can still be felt, even though he's been dead for five years. His portrait is in a place of honor; red, black and white flags bearing the Klingon trefoil on either side.

Tyr'Karath was a battle-scarred veteran. He had seen war and battle in nearly every major conflict for the past 100 years. His hair was now completely white, but full like a mane of lion's hair. He had gone through three different mates. All had born him fine children that he raised in the old ways. He walked with a slight limp but it was because of battle. The walking stick he now had to use was also good at beating down insubordinate young cubs who thought they were better than their elders.

Now that he was a widow and his children grown and having families and even grandchildren of their own he had little to occupy his time now and was grateful that he had something, even this strange wedding. Though he would never show such gratefulness. He was a war hero, but dying in battle now at his advanced age, having survived everything thrown at him so far...he would not have a warrior's death and despite all of his successes he was bitter.

["Wine, bloodwine! Where's the bloodwine!?!"] he demanded banging his gauntleted fist on the doorway. It was the only reason to go to a wedding, the drinks, the stories and the inevitable fights. He banged on the door again.

Gril'ka moved slowly, her back was hurting her again--not that she'd admit it. So many guests, all with special requests, and no time to prepare. What was the council thinking... Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking at the main door.

Opening the door cautiously, she peered out. "Is that you Tyr'Karath?"

"Who else would it be woman? Open up before I die on your steps of a parched throat and curse your house before I go to Sto'vokor!" the grizzled old veteran said banging his walking stick on the door again.

"Well, don't just stand there, come in," Gril'ka said. "You know that you are always welcome here."

"What? Just walk in like some common street riffraff? I am a Hero of the Empire!" the man chuckled and walked in. Unlike some of his age he didn't wear his medals like armor. Medals and awards and honors were for the dead.

Gril'ka had only recently celebrated her 80th birthday. Her hair was yellow/grey, but soft and shiny. She'd always admired this particular neighbor, and rumor had it, that he was available. She tried to think of some way to get his attention. "I see you've let yourself go, Tyr'Karath," she said.

"What dastardly words are you speaking now woman? Who've said these things? I will rip their tongues out with my bare hands!" he said slamming his walking staff into the paved flooring with nearly enough force to crack it.

The thin, but strong, old woman laughed. "Are you always this pleasant, or is this attention due to the bloodwine."

Tyr laughed again. Perhaps he was getting a little paunch, but he was no youth anymore. It was getting harder and harder to get around, not that it slowed him down. He still managed to leave those half his age in the dust when he set out on his evening walks. Some thought him strange that he would go on patrol on Qo'nos, as if anyone would invade the Klingon homeworld!

"Then follow me," Gril'ka told him. "The wine flows more rapidly than rivers in the great room, and the party has not even started yet."

"Good I am here before it gets watered down, hah!" Try was early because he had nothing else to do. Too old to serve in the armies, his children all grown and moved off-world. There was nothing left for him to do, but he wasn't going to say that..

"You are a welcome change, Tyr'Karath," Gril'ka said. "This wedding is not a happy one. Your stories will be a much needed diversion."

"Not happy? Not happy?" he said rounding on the woman. "And why not? Weddings are supposed to be passionate bloody affairs! The fierce struggle of mates as they show their dominance! Ahhh..." he chuckled lustily and eyed Gril'ka. He had enjoyed many weddings, some not even his own when the bloodwine flowed freely and some of the young maidens were easily swayed by his many tales of valor into his bed. Where he showed them that his advancing years had not stripped him of everything.

*******************

Location: Valkyre Bridge

K'Lira stood on the bridge looking around at the crew, her crew. She knew nothing about them and had no opportunity to ask, no sooner had they reached the home-world than Diana had been taken away with a final suggestion to try out the Valkyre during the downtime, likely to keep her out of the way. She resented the reasoning but thought it a fantastic idea to see what this old ship could do.

The seat for the first officer was open, the old officer had left soon after the ship had docked. She would soon have to choose someone to take his place but for now she wanted to see the ship as it had always been. She looked around the bridge and without a word being spoken knew they were ready to follow her command. "Comm, Open a channel to Qo'Nos control." The warrior nodded as the face of a young warrior appeared on screen.

"Qo'Nos control this is the IKS Valkyre requesting clearance to leave orbit." K'Lira stated strongly standing in front of the command chair.

"Valkyre, you are clear to depart, fly with honor." The young warrior replied with gusto.

"Always." K'Lira responded with a smile as she closed the channel. Turning to her crew she began, "Helm, Full power bearing 003.121.349 once we are clear of the system prepare for battle and activate cloak." Without a word the warriors complied and the light dimmed to a pale green as power was shunted to weapons and cloak. Smiling she took a seat and waited until the final planet of the system passed them by.

"Set course for the nearest uninhabited star system and engage."

----------------

The stars returned to normal as they reached the system, she could feel the anticipation of the crew. They wanted to know what she had planned and she was ready to show them. "Get within targeting district of the asteroid belt and show me what you can do." Her warriors gave a battle cry as the ship began to move faster and sharper, the asteroids being taken out one by one. She laughed sharply as the helmsmen took another sharp bank and a larger asteroid was blown apart.

K'Lira laughed and was ready to order another maneuver when she suddenly remembered a prior commitment. Turning to helmsmen she tried to hide how flustered she was. "Alright, good job. Now one more little test, set a course for Qo'Nos maximum speed." She sat down and tried to keep herself from fidgeting.

-----------------

Valkyre appeared in the Qo'Nos system dropping the cloak. "Comm, Qu'Nos command." She barked as the young officer appeared on the screen again. "Hello again Valkyre." The officer said curtly. "IKS Valkyre requesting geostationary orbit near council space."

By the time the coordinates were given K'Lira was already making her way to the transporter room and down to the bridal shower.

*******************

Location: House To'var, Great Room (Living Room)

Diana smiled, and accepted the gift graciously. [Another piece of lingerie.] "I love it," she said. "Can't have to many of these."

"True enough," Gril'ka said. "That new husband of yours will likely rip them off." This statement was met with genuine laughter. But, Gril'ka was a long-time retainer that Diana brought into the family, and she didn't think much of the Rag'na'roks, except that they were trouble.

Diana was pleased with the Klingon women's interest in the flimsy bits of cloth, that only teased at what lay beneath. She was about to launch her own line of lingerie, and if Klingon women were even curious, then she had an untapped market.

Another Klingon female--J'ok's side of the family?--pushed and shoved her way to the front. "Here is a real Klingon gift," Lurra Dk'tahg said, as she shoved a bottle into Diana's hands.

"What is it?" Diana asked.

The woman tipped her head back, and polished off the last of the bloodwine in her cup. Wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve, she then belched. "It is a special formula," she whispered in conspiratorial tones. "It will make things easier for you. What's more, it grows warm and tingles. You'll actually want the big oaf."

Had the woman had too much to drink? An uncomfortable silence was taking over the polite small talk. Diana looked around, then back at the bottle, and began to laugh. She clapped the warrioress on the back, and said, "A very practical gift; thank you!"

K'Lira walked in smiling, she knew she was late but putting the crew through their paced had taken longer than expected. She carried a small but heavy package which she laid before Diana.

Diana jumped up, and very nearly hugged the stuffing out K'lira--something which surprised both of them. Recovering, Diana said, "About time you got here, your ship docked almost 45 minutes ago."

K'Lira laughed and sat down, "I shouldn't be surprised you found out when we docked."

"I know everything about that ship," Diana replied. K'lira handed her a present, and Diana started to unwrap it. "What's this?"

K'lira saw the look on the human's face as she unwrapped a smallish (about 4in high by 6in wide) piece of metal with words carved into it saying:

IKS Valkyre

Dedicated in the honor of Diana Hunter who made it her life

to do what was best for the ship and her crew.

May she fight with pride and return with honor to the woman who will always be her true commander.

"I had the ship rededicated, it took some doing, but I convinced them to keep the name and to dedicate the ship to the woman who held her together through force of will. This will hang for all to see until the day the empire returns the ship to you." K'Lira smiled, she had never been good at the simple or mundane presents so it was the least she could do to make sure the ship was still Diana's even when the empire was footing the bill to fix it and upgrade some basic systems.

Diana smiled, "It's more than I ever hoped for. Thank you, and take care of her for me."

K'Lira nodded still smiling, "You know I will. I am glad you liked it, I have always been terrible at gifts."

While Diana and her bodyguard talked, Lurra Dk'tahg circled the table. Not willing to interrupt the conversation - reminding people that she was still there, representing the Rag'naRok's ("At least as far as anyone here knows" she thought). Lurra found an opening between the bodies milling around the guest of honor, and tossed her ACTUAL wedding gift onto the table.

A simple white envelope, with an embossed seal over the flip, and a single word of Klingon calligraphy on its front: "Diana." While the letter seemed like just another well-wishing greeting card; however, inside the envelope was a coded series of control passwords: the command subroutines they controlled unlocked the Rag'naRok ship's [The IKV Bloodline] controls for remote access. Lurra herself planned to be long gone from 'this fiasco' by the time the To'var flagship needed to use the codes (which controlled, in part, everything from propulsion to weapons systems aboard the Rag'naRok's Bird of Prey).

Then, Lieutenant Commander Lurra Dk'tahg, 'officially' in service to the House Rag'naRok, turned and beat a hasty, unhurried exit out of the party.

The party games were simple, stupid and suggestive. The popsicle game should be self explanatory, but for those of you who have never played, you're blindfolded and your hands are tied behind your back. Biting is an automatic disqualification, although some of the Klingon women wondered why.

Candy was put in charge of putting together a proper bachelorette party for Diana. The Klingon guests were having fun, competing in new games, and drinking moderately--at least, for now.

Kira shouted across the noisy room, "Finally, something I can beat you at Diana!"

Already blindfolded, Diana turned toward the sound of Kira's voice. "Faster is not necessarily better," she said.

There was scattered laughter in response. Then, Diana kneeled in front of the table, ready to compete. Someone made a crack about knee pads, and the laughter started up again.

Candy gave the signal to start, then quickly took Diana's popsicle away.

Diana leaned forward, but her popsicle wasn't there. She moved her head to the left, and then the right, but still no popsicle. She heard laughter. [Oh great,] she thought. [Someone is probably taking pictures of this too.]

The games were winding down, and it was time for cake. Candy and Kira walked in carrying a huge sheet cake between them. When they got closer, antomically correct figures of couples in various positions of the Kama Sutra decorated the top.

"I'll have some of that," one of J'ok's relatives said, pointing to "The Pair of Tongs."

More laughter, then Candy tried to serve the cake on paper plates. The Klingon women fell silent, most tipping their heads to one side, like a confused tarq. Candy wondered what she did wrong, and looked to Diana.

The Klingon women attending the party had--they thought--been very good sports about all this Terran 'stuff' so far, but dainty colored paper plates was where they apparently drew the line. "Plates?" Diana asked. "We're Klingons; we don't need no stinkin' plates!" She grabbed a huge piece of cake with her bare hands, and took a bite. Nodding her head, she said, "It's good!"

Diana went over to Candy to thank her for a lovely party, when Grilka, the elderly retainer turned house member, entered the room. "Mistress, there's a ..." She never got the chance. A man in black armor, like the military police wear, barged into the room.

"Who's in charge here?" he demanded.

Diana walked over to the doorway. "I am," she said. "What do you want here?"

The man in head-to-toe, black body armor removed his helmet to reveal a very attractive Terran male. He was clean-shaven, in his early 20's, had a full head of black hair, and brilliant blue eyes. "Then, I'm here for you." Moving quickly, he slapped old-fashioned handcuffs over one of her wrists, and the other to the arm of a chair. She tugged at the cuffs, but Candy and Kira pushed her back down.

He put on some vintage, earth rock-n-roll, and began to dance. First, he tossed away the helmet. Then, he began to gyrate and dance in front of the guest of honor. His hips swaying in a mesmerizing, erotic way. The utility belt was next to go.

Location: Bridal dressing room

Diana sat with her back to the door, not really caring if an assassin crept up on her, or not. She'd rather die than marry the warrior the Council had chosen for her. She watched the tape again.

"General Rag'naRok...." K'Vara replied. "Please note in your logs that Captain K'Vara and his crew contemptuously decline your offer. We impatiently await your arrival at the gates of oblivion, for you will be joining us soon. That is a promise." K'Vara cut the channel and nodded to his helmsman.

He was amazing; everything she'd ever wanted in a mate, and more. If she'd been there, she would have followed him. If he were here, she'd marry him. He was exceptional even on a planet full of warriors, and the loss was made greater by the planet's ignorance. He'd died without family. There was no one to mourn, or remember how he fought a delaying action against impossible odds. He did the right thing, when being wrong meant staying alive. He deserved better than to be forgotten.

"General Rag'naRok...." K'Vara replied. "Please note in your logs that Captain K'Vara and his crew contemptuously decline your offer. We impatiently await your arrival at the gates of oblivion, for you will be joining us soon. ...

She heard footsteps behind her, but wasn't ready to stop listening. The sound of his voice was mesmerizing; his words took hold of her heart and lifted her up. There weren't enough men like this in the galaxy, and without some kind of remembrance to inspire others, there would be fewer still. Diana imagined a universe of petty men fighting for power, but lacking courage and convictions. No, she wouldn't allow it.

Diana sadly, but resolutely, rose from her chair. Her expression was not easy to read. She was honored that the General had accepted her invitation, but circumstances had changed. She would not allow her true feelings to show--she was Klingon. If she was hurt, she would not complain. If she was afraid, she wouldn't let her opponent see it. If she was sad, she'd find something to do. Klingons are very passionate, but a public display of emotion was like telling a spy your strategy. Your enemy would know where you are vulnerable, and where you are going.

Diana saluted in Klingon fashion, and smiled warmly. "It is a great honor to have you grace our house, General. You are a hero, and a legend. The children will be telling their children, and grandchildren, of this day."

"Bah....I'm not interested in all that." Mekh'Tar said, waving a hand. "What I did, I did for my house and my government. That is honor enough. Teaching your children to do the same would honor me more than any amount of storytelling." Mekh'Tar ran a hand over one of Diana's Earth chairs. It felt pleasing to the touch, but not something Mekh'Tar would normally indulge in. It was too comfy, didn't suit his tastes. "I....would like to wish you well for your wedding."

"That's very generous of you," Diana said, "but I didn't ask you here for that reason." She took a large package from her desk, and turned it over to the General.

"What is this?" Mekh'Tar asked, feeling the package.

"Those belong to Capt. K'Vara," Diana explained. "I was greatly impressed by his courage, strength, strategy, and ability to lead others, even when it meant certain death. The tragedy is not that he died in battle, but that he died without a wife or children. Without family to mourn and sing songs of his greatness, his memory will fade from the collective consciousness."

"He won't." Mekh'Tar gritted his teeth a bit. The mention of his old student brought a lump in his throat. "His attack on the Honor Blade demonstrated strategy and tactics bordering on genius. Had he more ships at his disposal, he would have crippled the vessel long before I showed up. Students will be learning his tactics for generations."

"There are too many examples of wicked men on the news, and not enough role models for our young people to look up to," Diana said. "I've endowed the military academy, that the captain attended, with the funds to build a new sports complex, and name the building after him. I've arranged for a plaque, with K'Vara's last words to be placed at the entrance. Because you knew him best, I was hoping that you might select some of his things for a display case, or write some kind of memorial."

"I'm.....honored by this." Mekh'Tar said, clutching the package for a moment. "It means much that someone recognizes his sacrifice. I will honor your request, Diana." He nodded, looking up at her.

"I appreciate your help in this," Diana said. "Capt. K'Vara would be honored, I'm sure."

"Your choice of dress is most interesting." Mekh'Tar said, grin on his face. "You're getting married in that?"

Diana looked down at the Klingon body armor she was wearing, then looked back at the Mekh'Tar. Her gaze determined, and full of pride, "Is there something wrong with this uniform, General?"

"No, nothing at all." Mekh'Tar shook his head. "Just never seen it look good on a Human before." He laughed, clapping a hand on her shoulder and giving it a good shake.

Diana wondered, if the general knew what she intended to do next. Looking him in the eyes, she said, "That is a high compliment coming from you, and one I have waited my whole life to hear."

"So....what do you feel about the mate the council has chosen for you?" Mekh'Tar asked, taking a seat in an Earth designed chair. He gestured for Diana to sit as well.

Diana smiled, "I'm wondering what I did to so offend the high council."

(Laughs?) "There are...." Mekh'Tar began. "Rumors.... that you have taken a Human lover. Is this true? What you say will not leave this room, I swear upon my honor."

"That was several months ago," Diana answered honestly.

"Ah...." Mekh'Tar said, looking upward. "Could you tell me who he is?"

"It is of no consequence," Diana said.

**************************

Location: Wedding held in open arena

'Fascinating.' That was the first word to enter Nembia's mind as she walked into the lion's den of Klingons. Her eyes could not help but roam over the ceremonial dress of the shaggy ape-like beings. She gave a weak smile at a cold staring male, instantly looking toward the floor, as a woman leaned back and smacked the man upon the head. <~Ogling humans! You disgrace our house.~> The woman thought as she turned her eyes back upon the marriage couple.

There was no reason why she would not be mistaken as a human, since her only difference was on a mental level. Most of the time looking like a human made her feel secure. Now was not one of those times. There seemed to be divide in the crowd. Sure pockets of similarly dressed Klingons were gathered together but most notably was the cluster of Axel crewmembers in the middle of the bride's side. They were like an island of ridge-free faces, huddled together like crickets in a snake tank.

Nembia walked down the center aisle of the gathering, flashing apologetic glances at the couple's back as she slipped up and into the crowd of Axel crew members she did not yet know. Spending a few days in the med-room hadn't done her any favors, as far as budding up with anyone was concerned. It was out of pity that Korav extended her a lazy invite to this function.

Turning her eyes on the couple, she was surprised to see a human woman standing in the bride's place. Instantly her face wrinkled in

repulsion. Was she marrying one of THEM? What did the other crew members think of this? She "listened" to their thoughts as she looked over her shoulders, expecting to see other surprised individuals.

<~Man...~> Korav thought. <~Smells like steak in here....I'm hungry.....is there food at Klingon weddings? I'm hungry......Do Klingons even cook their food? Might not matter....I'm hungry....~>

"A Klingon heart," the words held no meaning for her anymore. Diana walked down the aisle, and stood opposite her intended--or rather, the man the council intended for her to marry.

D'eVo Dk'tahg sat in-between his Klingon parents, with Thedaius Che'deMara sitting next to him. The immaculately cleaned and dressed Klingon Imperials of the House Dk'tahg watched the proceedings with differing expressions of disgust, sadness, pity, and barely-contained rage. The small Dk'tahg contingent seemed to reflect the mood of the entire wedding. Many on the 'bride's side' of the aisle were obviously disturbed by the arrangement, while the 'groom's side' was mostly made up of Klinzhai dignitaries; along with a very small, but stern group of Rag'naRok commanders and their House guards.

The Dk'tahgs - unlike the Rag'naRoks - didn't have an armored entourage to guard them from the rest of the wedding guests, but any one of them could've ended this travesty with a single, shouted command to their supporters (or anyone opposed to the pending union; which looked like almost everyone in the crowd).

This fact wasn't lost on Cha'riana Dk'tahg, even though her steely, aristocratic exterior betrayed no more than a cautious disdain for the proceedings. "This will end badly ..." she thought, "I wonder how many of these 'guests' are hired scum working for the Rag'naRok's." Again, Cha'riana chose to wait, knowing that, sooner or later, the traitorous House Rag'naRok would show it's hand, and "the crowd will probably tear them apart ..."

"... If we are to be condemned for acting in the Empire's interests, we will certainly not act alone" Z'ox Dk'tahg thought, clutching his wife's hand in his. Echoing the almost-telepathic, shared thoughts that long-term couples often experience, he was trying to figure out how the Dk'tahg House could use this incident to regain some - sorely needed - honor, without risking their reputation to political exploitation by their enemies.

------outside------

From outside the arena, a lone figure, clad in a simple black traveler's cloak, watched the proceedings on the gigantic viewscreen that had been set up. The man, a Human, clutched at a weapon hidden underneath his cloak with a white-knuckle grip. He wanted to die, to curl up in a hole and just fade from existence, but he couldn't do anything about it. All he could do was watch ... watch as his dreams slipped from his grasp ...

------inside------

It was the part of the ceremony where the bride deflected a mock blow from the groom's bat'leth, and held her own weapon to his throat. It was customary, at this point, for the bride to offer herself to the groom - to join together to make an alliance of love and respect, to be stronger, wiser and better prepared because the two have become one.

Diana would never allow Ta'rok's portrait to be taken down from it's place of honor, and replaced by the likeness of J'ok Rag'na'rok. She would not vow to give herself over to him, and then taken to her own bed to be raped and murdered. And, above all, she would not subject her family to the rule of these maniacal, homicidal animals!

It was a very old ceremony, with even older customs. At one time, all marriages on Quo'Nos were arranged. If a girl would rather die than let some offensive lummox lay his hands on her, then that could be arranged.

"If the High Council believes that this putrid excuse for a Klingon male represents the kind of warrior that stands head and shoulders above all others," Diana said in a loud, clear voice, "then every man here should take offense. If this sick, and twisted, misogynist bigot is the best choice to head the house of a Klingon hero, then the planet should tremble. This idiot is not worthy to speak Ta'rok To'var's name" Diana hissed, "I will not allow him to touch what was my husband's, or put his own name above the door of our house!"

Captain Tk'tok Rag'naRok wasn't shocked by current events. In fact, his only reaction was to lean forward slightly; intently watching the disaster start to unfold with a displeased, but determined, scowl on his face. Measures were already in place for just such an emergency; all that he needed to do was to wait for someone else to make a move (and use the distraction to cover his, and his troops', own movements).

Lt. Commander Lurra Dk'tahg also calmly watched the drama in the center of the room; no reaction besides a very Vulcan-like raised eyebrow - and a slight improvement in her posture. As she sat, straight in her chair, watching the confrontation with restrained interest, she thought; "Well, here we go ... wait for it ... wait for it ..." (feeling her, currently-empty, gun hands itching with anticipation) ...

D'eVo Dk'tahg simply smiled at Diana's comments ("I love it when a plan comes together" he thought).

--------outside-------

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Klingons all around the diminutive Human began whispering to each other, barking bursts of outrage could be heard. The man's eyes widened as he saw on the viewscreen what the crowd hadn't. He immediately began wading through the crowd, using the movements to his advantage to sneak past the guards and into the hall.

-------inside------

The Rag'naRok's party of Imperial guardsmen each passed the other a quick, curious glance at the human woman's incendiary words, unsure of how to react. Captain Rag'naRoK must have detected their confusion somehow, because he was suddenly giving them a subtle 'hold your position' hand signal behind his back ... even as he began to slowly step back towards them.

Lurra Dk'tahg glanced over at her current CO with a strained look of concern, and then just as quickly looked away. If she was stationed at any other House, she would've assumed that the sudden movement was simply a show of protest. Knowing just who she was dealing with, she assumed that the "Rag'naRok's were up to something ... probably even more FOOLISH as the original plan!" she thought, determined to stay with the group - - - at least until there was a good opportunity to break away.

D'eVo saw the Rag'naRok's hasty retreat to the back of the room, and he, too, began to join the scattered series of movement in the crowd. Whoever wasn't transfixed by, and chattering about, the charged scene at the wedding altar, were either moving into position for the upcoming battle, or desperately trying to get away.

Diana kept the bat'leth to J'ok's throat, pushing just enough to break the skin. Then backing away, with her weapon still at the ready, she yelled, "I am Diana Hunter To'var, Shield Sister to the Immortal Valkyre," she yelled. "I was raised to be a warrior's woman, but born to be the consort of heroes. Ta'rok To'var choose me for a wife, and I will see to it that his house stands for a thousand years. This house will have one mistress, and NO master!"

"Then you DIE, bitch!" J'ok lunged forward, swinging his bat'leth up and out in a wide arc, then bringing it down and forward - towards the point of Diana's skull. She simply stepped back, lifting her own 'honor sword' up and out as she did. The two blades met with a loud clang, followed by the harsh scraping of metal on metal. J'ok advanced, bearing down on the human's sword with his own, using the leverage of his height and weight to try to push the weapon out of her - surprisingly strong and nimble - hands. Suddenly, the pressure on the other blade lessened for an instant, and J'ok stumbled forward, losing his grip on his own bat'leth, and his balance, as he began to fall forward ... (his honor sword tumbling out of his hands, cluttering awkwardly to the floor as his hands sought purchase on the young woman's armor) His tumble was stopped by the cold, sharp point of Diana's own bat'leth prodding into the soft skin of his throat. As he dropped his blade, raising both hands in the air ...

At first, there was no response from J'ok, save for the sound of his harsh, ragged breathing (the entire room had gone still and quiet, either from the shock of the human woman's words, or the inevitable, silent tension before battle, or both). After a few tense seconds - when, unknown to the two combatants in the center of the room, members of the Rag'naRok wedding party began to slowly and silently move away from their positions - J'oK finally spoke; "As you wish, my lady" he sputtered, forcing the words out between gagging and choking on the sharp blade-point poking into his windpipe.

Tk'toK Rag'naRoK patiently watched the travesty unfolding in the center of the room. Although his blood was boiling with rage, he managed to hold himself, and his troops, in check ... for now. "Even if she kills him, at least it will save me the trouble of having to do it myself!" As the Captain comforted himself with that thought, he began to discreetly arm himself. Drawing a short mek'leth out of it's ceremonial scabbard, and hiding it under his robes, he then motioned his troops to do likewise.

("At last")

Kira thought, as she exhaled slowly. She had tried to warn Diana about the Rag'na'roks, but it was like talking to someone who was sleepwalking. The girl seemed to have lost her will to live.

Phelm took out a communicator, and quietly informed his previous employer of the turn of events. "Even money, she wins," he said.

Max overheard the conversation, and asked, "Is there any way that I can get in on that?"

Lurra Dk'tahg, by now, was deep into the crowd. Hunching down behind two massive Klingon warriors, she pulled out a small remote unit, and hurriedly tapped out a short command sequence, before pocketing it away. Lurra then leaned back against the wall, and a released a thorough, sighing, cleansing breath and closed her eyes. As she attempted a breif moment of pre-battle meditation, she could hear the gasps of shock and whispered, awkward conversation in the crowd ... and the distinctive sound (even through the low, heavy jangle of Klinzhai heavy metal fashion accessories in the background) of weapons being snapped off their holsters.

Diana removed the weapon from the miscreant's throat, and stepped back, twirling the bat'leth once against her slender wrist, before stopping it's next arc-like motion with her other hand. As she took up a defensive stance, there was a light in her eyes that only dead men may know.

In that brief moment, the entire scene seemed to freeze, as if someone had paused a holosim (right before the big battle scene). Both combatants stared at each other in the long pause, Diana calm and at-the-ready, while J'ok only glared at the human, unarmed and somewhat unsure of himself. Instantly, the scene changed from tense calm to violent chaos! J'ok lunged for his dropped bat'leth, sliding to the floor as the Rag'naRok's charged the wedding party.

Nembia had been listening more to the thoughts around her than to the words actually spoken. Her hair ruffled from hot breath and she turned to see what had caused it. A Klingon man knelt down as if he expected a bull to charge him. In the light, his golden, chainmail adornments flashed with malice. The hissing of metal echoed through the crowd, pulling Nembia's attention all around her. She saw bat'leths being removed and edged closer to the Axel crew. Where was a tazer gun when you needed one? "Mmmm?" She began to speak, when the man behind her gave a roar and charged forward.

Nembia screamed, as she ducked and pushed against the person directly to her left. Her head popped up as the man whipped by. Blood. Lot's of it. Everywhere. "OOOOO. What the hell is wrong with you people!" Nembia stomped her foot like a spoiled child. Does every gathering of Klingons end this way? They must reproduce like rabbits to keep their population in existence, at the rate they slaughter one another.

"What the hell did you invite me for? Are you some kind of pervert?" She shouted at Korav, having somehow spotted him in the scuttle on her way toward any exit she could find.

<~I have no idea what that woman is saying~> Korav thought to himself. "Uhh....... I don't see how this would be a turn-on.....but I like it anyway...." He said with a smile as one Klingon was launched through a window by a group of Klingons.

Captain Rag'naRok led the charge, leaping into the bride's aisle with a drawn mek'leth in one hand, while the other pulled a 'ceremonial' disruptor pistol out of it's side holster. He was in front of six House guards, each holding their lethally-charged pain sticks out in front of them like jousting spears. M'klet Rag'naRok stood to his right, swinging a razor-sharp bat'leth into the crowd, while to Tk'tok's left, Lurra Dk'tahg was bouding nimbly into the crowd, twin battle-scalpels in each hand.

Lurra Dk'tahg, head bowed and shoulders back, darted forward into the mass of people crowding around the wedding altar. She had no specific target to attack, but wanted to appear as if she was zipping off to assassinate some unidentified interloper deep in the throng. As she stood in a crowd of bearish, armored warriors (her smaller frame hidden behind the massive bulk of several young men) she suppressed a brief, mischievous thought ("I think I'll stay riiight here ..." she joked to herself, suppressing a temporary swoon in the presence of such powerful warrior males, the scent of battle-hardened leather and good-old-fashioned Klingon testosterone filling her nostrils) then checked over her shoulder, and then quickly turned back. The Rag'naRok's were busy enough; she simply holstered her knives and began to weave herself deeper into the shifting, scattering crowd.

From the sidelines, Ah'Qwa watched. This whole thing had almost obviously been orchestrated with the intent of implosion. There was no way a marriage would happen this day. More likely it would turn out to be a funeral...perhaps several. He quickly moved to get into a position to stave off the Rag'NaRoks. What he could do alone was limited. Still, he had to try.

Reggie felt something change. Diana had changed. She'd gone into the beserker state that their earliest ancestors, the Vikings, were known for. She was like a force of nature--beautiful, deadly and as easy to control as a cyclone. When her humanity returned, as it must; when her killer rage was spent, she would go into deep depression.

Without realizing it, Reggie had gotten up, and was headed to his sister's aid. He bumped into someone in the aisle. He was only vaguely aware that other people were moving about. It was several moments before he realized that all the others were J'ok's family. It was a split second after he'd processed this information, that he noticed they were armed. "Max!" he yelled.

It was Nembia that Reggie bumped into. She gave out an vulgar exclamation as she feel sideways. Her arms hooked onto a chair arm,

hip landing against the polished floor. Good thing Kim had made her wait until she was fully healed before she left sickbay.

Nembia might of taken a moment to make him trip over his own feet, or at least glare at him, but she felt it more pressing to get up and out of the way. As she clambered to her feet, she caught sight of the bride's hair as it waved in a arch while she turned. The muscles in her arms contracted as she brought the blade of the bat'leths down upon the other. Nembia's eyes narrowed as Norse words (unidentifiable to her) echoed in her mind.

With the shake of her head she returned to her pervious action...getting the hell out of Dodge. As she ran between the disrupted rows

of chairs she was met in the middle by a broad and gruesomely sweaty Klingon woman. At least she thought it was a woman. "Whoa. Wait." Nembia stated as she rose her hand and took a slow step back. "I just got here!"

The woman, Qlk're, did not seem to care. Her bat'leth was dulled with blood, which dripped against the chairs as she raised it and charged forward. Nembia's legs parted as she made eye contact with the woman. <~Give the bat'leth to me.~> She relayed her will.

Qlk're drew short of her mark, her shoes eking to a stop against the marble. Her hairy brows creased and she gave a bewildered frown as she lowered the bat'leth. It had once been her mother's and her mother's before that. Qlk're's hands ran over the leather wrapped handle in a loving gesture. "I feel like....I should give this to you...." With a deep inhale the bat'leth was passed into Nembia's shaking hands.

-------

Each second seemed to elongate. Ah'Qwa threw himself through the crowd and tackled one of the Rag'NaRok guards. His mek'leth clattered to the floor and spun to a halt about two feet away from the two men now wrestling on the floor. Ah'Qwa cursed himself for only bringing the dk'tahg knife at his belt, but it was enough to open the man's throat from ear to ear. As the breath escaped the warriors severed windpipe with accompanying bubbles through the gushing blood, Ah'Qwa reached out to grab the dropped blade with his left hand. "Who's next?!" He challenged as he burst to his feet. His stance indicated he meant business and was ready to take on any and all of the attackers. He just hoped he didn't have to....alone.

The split-second of chaos bought J'oK the necessary distraction. He was up on his feet, and swinging at the Terran tarq in his path with all unnecessary force. The Klingon sociopath pressed forward with lumbering, brute force kill swipes; which the human woman deflected effortlessly. He actually found himself gasping and starting to sweat from the effort.

Diana was lost in the moment. Cool, emotionless; she was in complete control. Every fluid motion, each attack was swift and precise. She was absolute perfection, as she blocked and parried J'ok's powerful blows. She was letting him wear himself out. He was huge and strong, but so are elephants - but, elephants don't handle weapons well. She feinted, and J'ok shifted his footing to compensate, and Diana's honor blade slashed across his torso, ripping his battle armor.

J'ok, now in full berserker mode, kept slashing at the dodging, blocking, blur of blonde hair in his sights. Suddenly, the human appeared to drop her weapon, very slightly and just for a moment ... J'ok leapt forward, jabbing the topmost point of his honor sword into Diana's shoulder - and then she shifted forward, slicing open his armor!

M'Klet Rag'NaRok lunged at Ah'Qwa clumsily. The accomplished swordsman easily parried the thrust with a down sweep of his blade and used the opening to plow his right palm into the chin of M'Klet. The warriors head wobbled on his shoulders as though unhinged. His eyes didn't even get a chance to stop rolling before Ah'Qwa spun through the move and planted the mek'leth hilt deep in the man's chest. Two guardsman took the place of the falling M'Klet as he slid off the blade onto the floor. "Stay back you curs! This is her fight and hers alone!"

The first of the new attackers was much more of a challenge. Though Ah'Qwa parried and riposted several times in a flurry of motion, he could not get the upper hand. The other warrior seemed to be looking for an opening to strike cleanly. Ah'Qwa tried to keep an eye on him, but it was taking all of his attention to deal with the first man. Finally, Ah'Qwa found his mark. First he lopped off the sword hand. Much to the surprise of the man. A backstroke finished him.

Korav saw a Klingon, obviously not with the Rag'Na'Roks about to get his head lopped off by a sword-wielding goon. Unsheathing one of his hidden knives, Korav sent it into the Klingon's thigh, causing the brute to scream in agony. Korav then rushed him and knocked him unconscious with a clumsy elbow to the jaw.

"Thank you." Ah'Qwa forced between bloodied lips. "I didn't see that one coming." The confession was more than he wanted to offer. But, the white-eyed man had saved him from the second attackers blade if not his head. "This is getting dicey." Even as he spoke those words a Bat'leth arced in from his left wielded by an unseen hand. The back of the weapon struck Ah'Qwa squarely across the top of his skull. The tall warrior crumpled to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Korav sighed as the Klingon he'd just saved was dropped like a sack of bricks. He then braced himself as he ran right into a Rag'na'rok warrior. The bigger brute knocked Korav off his feet. The Captain of the Axel swept his larger opponent's feet out from under him, then proceeded to go to town on the brute's face with his fists.

The strange man had made his way all the way up to the altar, stopping only to wrap a cloth around his face, covering his features except for his eyes. He spotted the two shooters hanging by the streaming banners. His eyes quickly identified the familiar outlines of their weapons. They were older model Klingon disruptors, coming from the era of Captain Kirk and the Khitomer accords. Designed for long-range single-shot action, they were perfect for your long-range assassination, but not for fast-paced melee work like this.

"Last chance, J'ok," Diana said. "Yield and live."

The only response from J'ok Rag'naRoK came in the form of a low, animal growl, the baring of fangs, and advancing onto the point of Diana Hunter's bat'leth (drawing a fresh trickle of blood on his already stained-shirt).

With the next sweep of her honor blade, Diana removed all medals and symbols of rank from J'ok's uniform. "You're sure?"

J'ok looked down, in shock, at his tattered shirtfront (exposing a bare chest and stomach covered in tiny scratches and puncture wounds) and halved sash on the floor. He stared, dumfounded, at his unexpected change of wardrobe (the shiny points of light from his medals and insignia glaring up at him from a pile on the floor), even as he felt the slightly warm tingle of a transporter beam in his hands.

Around the two wedding combatants, the Rag'naRok's were being armed - via a concealed transporter lock - with high-powered energy weapons ... While others in the crowd were still fighting with blades, clubs, bare fists and feet, or whatever was handy. J'ok wasn't so lucky ... as soon as he could see the outline of a vintage disruptor rifle shimmer into view, Diana Hunter was screaming directly towards him, her bat'leth swinging, point-blank at his exposed throat.

Even as J'ok's own firearms clattered, uselessly, on the ground, the rest of the Rag'naRok's wedding party suddenly had more than blades, fists, and painsticks at their disposal. Unfortunately for them, the disruptor guns were all-but-useless in the close, tight fighting of the wedding chapel. There simply wasn't enough room to lower a weapon and fire in the swirling melee in the center of the room. However, that didn't stop the assorted Rag'naRok sharpshooters currently lining up along the balcony railing overhead.

Making his move, the stranger pulled out his own phaser and grabbed onto one of the guests (making sure he was a Rag'naRok) and shoved him roughly in front of the shooter's target. The first shooter opened fire and hit the hapless guest, the pain of the wound caused the Klingon to let out a horrific shriek. The weapons' fire was all that was needed to degenerate the melee into all-out chaos. Guests were running in every which direction, some to join the fight, the rest of them were scrambling to get out before they were shot.

It was the perfect cover for the strange man to take his shots. Two quick, successive phaser blasts knocked the would-be assassins out of their perches and into the crowd below. He followed this up by drawing a short blade and a Klingon Dk'tahg and getting to work on the Rag'naRok guests in his way. He made Diana his singular objective, carving a bloody path to try and reach her.

D'eVo Dk'tahg was weaving through the crowd, attempting to circle closer and closer towards the raging donnybrook at the middle of the vaulted room. As he stepped over corpses, sputtering painsticks, and the occasional pair of wrestling-to-the-death Klingons, his eyes caught a familiar, unsettling sight. A short Klingon woman was also bobbing and weaving her way through the fight, using her small frame to duck around the rioting mob. There was something familiar about the warrioress, and as D'eVo - pausing to duck as a flying chair soared past his face - noticed the woman's shock of bright copper, almost blonde, hair, he dove forward in pursuit ("What the hell is SHE doing here?!" Calvin asked himself, knowing that he probably wouldn't like the answer) ...

Korav, finally done mutilating his opponent's face, scrabbled over to a vantage point where he could watch the action by the altar. His smaller profile allowed him to avoid detection for the most part, with the exception of having to dodge a projectile here and there.

---------

D'eVo grabbed the smaller Klingon woman by the arm (drawing his free hand up and back in a defensive gesture); "Let's go, Lurra." She turned and spun out of his grip, and disappeared into the crowd. D'eVo allowed himself a brief curse, then dove into the midst of the chaos, tyring to keep his eyes on the running, ducking, and sidestepping female.

The stranger had reached the center of the brawl at last. Many of the To'Var guests paused to stare curiously at the strange man, but put it to the back of their minds once they saw that he appeared to be fighting on their side.

The man reached the center of the brawl and found Diana out flanked and struggling against J'ok and several of his goons. Her family was too far away, and he was in the better position.

Charging forward, the stranger bowled straight into one of J'ok's goons, knocking the bigger one off-balance. He swept that Klingon's legs out from under him, and in one swift, fluid motion, flung his Dk'tahg into the throat of the other. The first goon was back on his feet, and the stranger then spun around just in time to block the first goon's bat'leth with his short blade, holding the bat'leth just inches from his forearm.

Diana saw the stranger out of the corner of her eye, marked his height and build, and her heart leapt like it wanted to fly out of her chest. She returned to the fight with renewed energy and purpose. She was more agile and skilled. She began to advance on J'ok with one quick attack after another. She didn't have to use her full strength, just keep swinging. She had worn her opponent down, and continued to do so. Now, with the flurry of attacks that would wound, but not kill, she continued to tire him out. But, she also was moving fast and true. Poor J'ok was defending himself time after time, he wouldn't see the feint she was about to use, until it was too late.

J'ok Rag'naRok continued to lumber through the battle, running on nothing more than adrenaline and a deep reserve of hatred. Every lethal swing of his bat'leth was either blocked, deflected, or redirected by the nimble human. Still, he kept on swinging his blade, plodding through the pointless battle exercise. At this point, J'ok became lethally aware of the matted hair clinging to his face, the sweat soaking his tunic and stinging his eyes, and the tiny pinpricks and splatters of lavender blood he was peppered with (all of the blood was his own, and some of it was even drawn with his own blade!) ...

-----------

Nembia secured five bat'leths in the same manner as the first and had clung to them out of fear but Marians were not known for their

physical strengths and she found it necessary to abandon the three largest. One remained in each white-knuckled and sweaty palm. For a few seconds she did nothing but scurry around the room like an ant dodging rain. This proved effective as far as not getting vaporized but it did nothing to keep her wits. The bat'leths turned into shields which more or less did nothing but block her eyesight from the horrors around her.

Perhaps she was more intelligent than an ostrich with its head in sand or perhaps it was a strong grip from one of the Klingons that made her realize that just because she couldn't see around her didn't mean she was invisible. "Where is my bat'leth!? I gave it to you, WHERE IS IT?!" The Klingon shouted as he shook her like a rag doll. Inside her skull, Nembia's brain began to smash against itself. She felt the fatty tissues under her chin quake as her hair rattled in the air. Catching her with the other arm and squeezing her tight the Klingon stilled her. "WHERE!" He demanded as his eyes made contact with hers.

<~My father gave me that. It was my 18th birthday present. I was so excited. Only took me two hours to wake up from the blow he gave me with it. He was so proud of me. That was the only time he ever told me that. I'm hurt, why didn't he tell me he was proud of me more?~> The Klingon's mind oozed with sentimental thoughts. Nembia's eyes widen and her head cocked to the side. She bestowed upon him a bewildered look as one might give a dog that recites Plato's theories. Sentimental thoughts? In a Klingon? His facial expression did not at all match his mind. "I'm-I'm sure your father was proud of you at other times..."

"What?" His bark softened during the last syllable and his hands realized. "I spoke nothing of my father." His nostril flared and his

grip retighten. Before he could growl another word from between his gnarled teeth he was suddenly conflicted with a powerful thought. His eyes stung and his bottom lip trembled. Nembia held her breath until he let her go, forgetting all about her and focusing

in on the lack of attention he had received from daddy after his little brother was born. Father always thought Ak'loc was stronger.

The Klingon's hands dropped to his sides and he walked around her at a self pitying pace.

With a shiver she hunkered down and moved on, spying amongst a rubble of cloth and metals the largest cluster of humans she had thus seen. Nembia ran quickly toward Diana, Reggie and some cloaked dude with an obvious musketeer complex. "Thank God. People. I- ack." She ducked as a chair flew over their heads. In her hands were two bat'leths on which soft lavender blood glistened. Her hair and clothes, having been shaken by the now sobbing Klingon, where as disarrayed as all the other warriors. She looked about her wildly as she crouched down with the bat'leths above her head like umbrellas.

Diana and J'ok were encaged in battle. All the Klingons looked like another to Nembia but judging by the straps on the floor she guessed that J'ok was the groom that had been standing beside Diana. Was this part of the ceremony? She lingered nearish to them and eyeballed the chaos. Was this normal? Korav should of warned her of this.

Reggie couldn't believe he had actually said, 'excuse me' to the warrior about to kill his sister. He fought with the larger Klingon for the disruptor, and a stray shot alerted everyone of trouble. Reggie trained until he was as strong as any Klingon, had mastered kung fu, and he wasn't adverse to fighting dirty. He took out his opponent's knee cap, then broke his arm to take the disruptor from him.

With all the inexperienced, self-centered, stupid fiber of her body, Nembia began to approach the more freed human with the intention of asking him if this was part of the wedding custom. The Klingon that he had disarmed was not without another weapon. A knife was drawn from his belt and arched upward to plunge into Reggie's femur. <~NO SIR!~> Nembia mentally scolded the Klingon whose eyes shot to her in pain and puzzlement. He stared at the scarred lipped woman in such amazement that it caused Nembia to wonder if he was telepathic as well and actually heard the wording of her thoughts. His eyes narrowed into slits but his hand dropped the knife. Its metallic clatter against the floor was lost amongst the thong of screams.

Quickly Nembia's hand dropped one of the bat'leths and clapped onto Reggie's arm. <~I'm a friend~> She thought to him, fearing he would turn the disruptor onto her without looking. "Don't shot him. Let this one go."

Reggie said nothing, but holstered his weapon. He continued to watch the Klingon who attempted to stab him. He was oblivious to the melee around them, and focused on the warrior on the ground. The man was half a foot taller, heavier, and with a longer reach. He was right-handed, and definitely on about something.

Her eyes were still entwined with the befallen Klingon. He breathed so laboriously, she thought with startling remorse. "He is different," she whispered.

"Different how?" Reggie asked. "Did you do something to him?" he wanted to know.

"No," the Klingon stated. His looked to Reggie and back to Nembia once, before his attention focused on Reggie. He was not a baby. He was not some helpless infant to be saved from death's blow. "Fight me." He growled as his hands flexed into themselves. Why could he not pick up the knife? Why had he not tried to attack again? Perhaps if the human male attacked him then his body would obey him. Or was it his body that would not obey? "Do it. F-Fight me."

Reggie turned to Nembia, "I'm not going to hurt him." Reggie had to get to Diana. [Who was this woman who stopped and started fights? Was this amusing for her?], he wondered. He wasn't sure how she was doing it, but Reggie's mind and heart were his own. No one was going to force him into some sort of gladiatorial sport. Reggie reached for the standard federation security issue phaser at his hip. Pre-set to heavy stun, he fired as the Klingon warrior charged him. The man dropped like a rock, and Reggie went to his side. Quickly checking to make sure he was alright, Reggie looked up at Nembia. "Use him as a shield, and stay here." Crouching down, he looked for an opening, and headed toward his sister.

Nembia had gasped when the blue stokes from the phaser encompassed the Klingon. She jumped as the warrior bounced back onto the ground and covered her mouth with her hands. Vomit-laced breath echoed off her fingers into her nostrils. "Use him as a shield, and stay here," she heard Reggie say as she lowered down beside the warrior. Her fingers checked for a pulse and, finding one, she exhaled. The chaos about her continued, swirled in a repetitive cycle. Should they not all be dead

by now? Laid out on her side, she turned her head to watch those about her. Over 75% of the guests were dead or fled, and those that were left seemed fatigued in their fighting. Nembia turned her face down between the Klingon's arm and his side. The stench of his armpit was much more pleasant that then eeking of blood, feces and vomit around her.

As glasses helped correct the curvature of the eye so that one could see, Marian minds were like lenses for thought. They could focus in and out the thoughts of others as well as focus their own into the mind of another. This was not fail proof. Within her scull rattled the mental ramblings of those about her. Everyone around her was thinking of battle, rage and fear. Her head began to pound as her heart rapidly pumped blood throughout her body. It had taken three years of repeated rehab for her to cease using harsh, violent Dark Thoughts she was so naturally inclined toward.

It was so tempting to prolong the pain of those around her. Nembia could feel her temple pounding and taste copper in her mouth. Upon her back she felt the splattering of blood as a Klingon too near was inclined to slice open his own arm. The skin uncurled from the muscles like a flower in bloom. She had to get out. With a deep inhale her head tossed back her hair. Fingers gripped the Klingon's stomach, nails tearing at the cloth. With a push she was off of him. Her shoes clapped against the floor, slipping briefly on the pools of blood. She focused her thoughts on reaching the exit door safely. It gave way with a bang followed by an alarm and spays of water from the buildings sprinkler system.

Into the streets Nembia raced, bumping momentarily into a faceless person. She continued across the street, ignoring the shouts of a

motorist. In her wake arguments, and fist fights, erupted between those within two feet of her, so that she left a notable wake of anger in her trail. So infused with rage from others, that she momentarily considered ripping out her own hair just to relieve some of the

aggression without hurting another. Deciding that hair was one of her best features, now that her face was marred, she refrained from tearing out the strands. A gaggle of women, however, took up the thought and each gave at least one mighty yank to pop the core of their hair from their scalps.

-----------

By, now D'eVo [Calvin] had completely lost Lurra Dk'tahg in the swirling, chaotic family feud - and the misplaced punch on his shoulder immediately brought him INTO it!

As D'eVo sprinted after the ducking, sidestepping, running Lurra Dk'tahg, he was stopped, suddenly: with a sharp, blinding, punch to his temple. He staggered slightly, reeling under the force of the blow, and the shock of getting blindsided so easily. As his field of vision began to dissolve in a blur, D'eVo felt an uncomfortable weight around his neck and shoulders. As he realized what was going on, D'eVo also realized that he wasn't ... exactly ... vertical. As his unseen attacker clamped down on the sleeper hold, D'eVo's feet began scrabbling for purchase on the floor ...

It was no use; he'd landed squarely on his tailbone, and couldn't get enough leverage to snap to his feet; especially with the strong arms currently wrapped around his neck, pressing him deeper into the floorstones. Unable to find a center of balance, D'eVo's tried, feebly, to dislodge the strangler with a series of misplaced eye-rakes, none of which had the desired effect. As his arms fell limply to his sides, D'eVo's saw the room grow dark, his consciousness fading out from lack of oxygen ...

Moments later, his eyes opened, and he felt the noticeable absence of a choking pressure on his windpipe. There was a lifeless body lying next to him on the floor; its eyes were wide open, and the face was contorted in an expression of speechless surprise. As D'eVo groggily brought himself into a sitting position, he looked over and saw that the dead man had a pair of battle-scalpels jammed into his temples, and his face was caked with a fresh sheen of lavender blood. As he staggered to his feet, he saw Lurra Dk'tahg, standing within arms reach of him, defiantly posing above the fresh kill at her feet.

"You're welcome." She said, coyly, motioning at the corpse on the ground with a slight downward tilt of her eyes. Before D'eVo could say anything she warned him; "Do not try to follow me, Calvin. You don't know what you're doing." With that, she simply turned around and calmly walked right back into the fray, dodging falling bodies and swinging fists, sword blades - even the occasional focused energy burst. 'Calvin' simply stood and watched the Klingon woman disappear into the crowd; shocked, winded - and slightly cowed by the unexpected use of his Terran name. "Another time, perhaps, Ms. Dk'tahg" he thought, determined to find out more, but willing to honor her request ... for now ...

The stranger fended off the bat'leth-wielding goon, causing his larger opponent to lose his balance. He took the opening and landed a vicious kick on the Klingon's right kneecap. There was a sickening crunch, followed by a roar of sheer agony. The stranger ended the Klingon's suffering with a blade plunged into the base of his skull.

Dislodging the blade, the stranger tossed the limp body aside and turned to face J'ok and Diana.

"That's it, pal." The stranger's voice was ragged, partially muffled by the cloth covering his face. "No running, no more backup. Just you and her, and my money's on her."

Diana clenched and unclenched her fingers on the bat'leth's grip. She nodded at the stranger in gratitude, than turned her attention back to J'ok. A melee had broken out among the guests. She wondered, if sparing her fiancée's life would end the violence, but the Rag'na'roks seemed to care even less about him than she did.

---------

K'Vrock watched as the madness unfolded. The wedding had instead turned into an all out brawl. K'Vrock saw the hooded stranger as he, (was it even a he? K'Vrock was unsure), as they cut a swath through the crowd. He watched as bodies fell, and all manner of fists and weapons were used against anyone in range.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, K'Vrock appreciated the irony. "Possibly how every Klingon wedding should be." He mused to himself. He scanned the crowd as the struggle broke out in all directions. Thorn was here somewhere and his cousin was very...well single minded when it came to killing. K'Vrock studied the hooded figure, but decided Thorn wasn't that ambitious to openly enter the room attacking.

Then, with a sparkle of light from the terrace above, K'Vrock saw Thorn. He was hidden quite well, and at the current pace of things if he shot, not only would he hit J'ok, but Diana as well. K'Vrock made his desiscion in an instant and broke into a run for the altar.

He dodged fist and blade as he used agility he had left untapped for the last five years. He side stepped a slice of a blade, and pressed

onward. And as K'vrock closed that gap, he turned and saw that Thorn was readying to fire, picking his shot, and deciding the risk was worth the payoff. K'Vrock pressed himself faster and leapt as he found the edge of the raised area for bride and groom.

And he felt the searing tingle as he intercepted a shot that surely would have ended both Diana Hunter and J'ok. As the darkness closed in, K'Vrock smiled, comfortable in his change of heart.

----------

J'ok leapt forward, screaming like a wounded, rabid beast. His battle cry was a wordless, nightmarish shriek, and the ragged slashes with his blade lacked any skill or technique. He was operating on a purely animal level, unable to formulate a plan of attack, and only feeling the dark torrent of bloodlust engulfing him. His only emotion was blind rage, and his only thought was the brutal slaying (by his hand) of the woman currently besting him in personal combat. In his current state, he was completely unaware of how slow and shaky his movements were getting, and how he kept dropping his guard ...

Diana stepped to the side at the last moment, sliding her hands down the bat'leth's handle, in order to wield it like a sword. Swinging upward, she caught J'ok under the chin. Feeling the connection beneath her sensitive fingers, she pushed against the razor-sharp edge of the weapon, slicing through his larynx. Blood spurted out like a faucet, and still Diana pressed hard against the blade, driving it deeper. She had to shove particularly hard to cut through his spinal column. She threw all of her strength into it; so much so, that once the bat'leth cleared the oaf's thick neck bone, it slid through the rest of his neck cleanly and easily. While it seemed a long time to Diana, it actually happened within the space of a few heartbeats.

J'ok's head seemed to leap from his shoulders, spin in the air once, then land with a dull thud a few feet away from Diana.

Ah'Qwa didn't know how long he'd been out. Hopefully only seconds had passed. It didn't feel as though he'd gone completely under, but it was hard to tell. As he lay on the floor and tried to refocus his eyes, his vision perceived the oddity of the dead eyes of Jok Rag'NaRok staring out at him from across the ground.

Korav would've cheered, but he was too busy trying to break the grip of the Klingon whose hands were around his throat. Korav finally got his footing and planted a kick on the Klingon's rib cage, causing him to loosen his grip, allowing Korav to escape. But the Captain's freedom was short-lived as two Klingons grabbed him and held him as the first Klingon landed punches on Korav's abdomen.

The blood that sprayed from J'oks head casted a lavender rainbow in the air. It would have been very pretty it where not for black veins wiggling in the air behind it. The quick movement caught Nembia's eye and she turned just in time to see his head leap from his neck. The top of his spinial cord appeared to flap close much like a fern's leaf when pressed to tight. Nembia's muscles contorted and the sting of bile at the back of her throat gave her limited warning. She turned a half quarter step, leaned just enough to avoid her shoes and vomited against the hard marble floor.

Calvin [D'eVo] was on the floor, desperately trying to avoid the boots clomping around his face, and simultaneously wrestling with a pair of thick Klingon hands around his throat. He could hear the sounds of energy weapons being fired, curses, threats and orders being shouted, and the muddy, shrieking cacophony of a full-fledged street fight spinning all around him ...

The melee was apparently in full swing. The Klingon laying a few feet away seemed to be on the side of House To'Var judging by the insignia adorning the armor of the man throttling him. Ah'Qwa pulled himself to his feet, now with both his original mek'leth and the one he had fallen on top of from his last fight. The guards hand still clasped the hilt. Though the rest of his body lay several feet away. With the first blade he thrust through the back of the warrior on top. As the man below pushed aside the limp form, Ah'Qwa offered both his hand and the second blade, bleeding appendage still attached. "Let me lend you a hand." Responding to his own humor, he smirked. "Now, let us finish this! We shall send the Rag'NaRok's to Gre'thor upon a burning barge this day! May Fehk'lar eat their entrails while they watch!" He spat the curse forcefully blood and spittle spraying any unfortunate enough to be too close.

"Thanks." D'eVo (Calvin) offered to the unknown Klingon male; suppressing a sudden fit of hysterical laughter at the strange man's 'prop comedy.' He didn't even notice his use of a Human pleasantry; completely losing his bearings for a moment in the confusion of a pitched battle. He listened, blankly, while the 'other' Klingon went on about spilling some traitorous Rag'naRok blood; grateful for any - even temporary - ally. After the other man coughed up a splatter of pinkish blood over the Dk'tahg crest of his robes, D'eVo simply shucked off the dangerously conspicuous garment ("Good riddance!" he thought, while kicking the soiled robes under a nearby table). Revealing the thick, spike-encrusted, leather battle armor underneath, D'eVo reached back behind his neck and released the band holding his hair in a neat ponytail. While he did this, his other hand unclasped his own bat'leth (strapped across his back) and brought it forward. He then turned back to [Ah'Qwa] and said, confidently; "After you, my honorable friend." Looking every bit the Klingon warrior of old - his jet black, shoulder-length hair hanging around his face, and a gleaming, razor-sharp bat'leth in his hands - he appeared more than ready to do whatever was necessary. He then added: "Just make sure to save some for me ..."

------------

The scene from Mekh'Tar's vantage on the gunship was one of chaos and anarchy.....as things in the Empire often became. The General was still dressed in his ceremonial military armor for the wedding. As soon as violence broke out, he'd been emergency transported out of the chapel along with the Chancellor (who was probably holed up in some bunker again). He checked his tac display to ensure that all units were in position before hailing the rest of the assault force.

=/\= Blade wing, this is Mekh'Tar on Blade Leader. All units check in. =/\=

=/\= Blade two, in formation, checking in General. =/\=

=/\= Blade three, in formation, checking in General. =/\=

=/\= Blade four is on site, situation looks bad General =/\=

=/\= Understood, wing. Circle around the wedding arena and box in the occupants. Set up manual transporter disruption fields and prevent any targets from leaving the site. Engage running targets with stun rays only and watch your fire- we have VIP's down there. =/\=

=/\= Acknowledged, General. =/\=

The four dropships swooped down on the crowd gathered outside the arena, their powerful turbines deafening and stunning the combatants below. The ships hovered right over the entranceways to the main streets leading away from the chapel, ensuring that no one could get in or out. Angry Klingons, confused and bewildered by the assault, stumbled over each other trying to find cover from the angry, roaring dropships.

Mekh'Tar tapped his pilot on the shoulder and gestured toward the voice receiver for the onboard speaker systems. The pilot handed Mekh'Tar the receiver and the General began to speak. Thunderously booming from the dropship speakers, the general's voice could clearly be heard over the din of the fighting.

=/\= ATTENTION!!! THIS IS GENERAL MEKH'TAR!!! EVERYONE IMMEDIATELY THROW DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND LIE FLAT ON THE GROUND!!! WE WILL SHOOT IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY!!! REPEAT, THROW DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND LIE DOWN!!! WE WILL SHOOT ANY STILL STANDING!! YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO COMPLY!! =/\=

Ah'Qwa was not at all surprised at the announcement from General Mekh'tar. The Defense Force was not going to let this go on forever. "Perhaps not." He said as he relinquished his weapon. "Lucky PehTaq's!"

D'eVo threw his bat'leth to the ground, where it landed with a loud kerrang. He then reached to his waist, pulled his ceremonial dagger out of his hip scabbard, and tossed that to the ground, also. After dispensing with his meager arsenal, he raised both arms in the air, and stood his ground. He knew better than to drop to his knees, alongside the guilty and the dead. In the realm of Klingon etiquette, D'eVo knew that following the General's orders wasn't necessary, and probably not very sensible. "The sensors and imaging scanners on a Klingon planetary defense ship can snipe targets from high orbit, and I'm sure they know who I AM!" he thought.

"Ah, well..." Ah'Qwa retorted with a non-chalant shrug and a wolfish grin. "...It was fun while it lasted." Wiping the blood from his armor with his gauntleted left hand, he added. "We should do this again sometime." Then, he awaited the intervention of the Defense forces that were already entering the building.

Noticing that the man standing to his right was still ... standing, D'eVo gave him the briefest; slightest of nods ... He thought that the 'other' Klingon must've had "some pretty high connections." The fight was winding down, and the constables were going to have their hands full processing known and novice criminals, safeguarding the nobility, and possibly slaughtering any defiant hangers-on in the process. "Singling out two random warriors isn't going to be a high priority for them" D'eVo calmly realized, still standing in the deserted corner of the room, his hands still in the air.

Korav had been chasing after Nembia, who had left behind a trail of bloodrage and destruction in her wake, but quickly decided that he'd rather not get fried by a bunch of trigger happy Klingons. He quickly found a relatively quiet spot outside the chapel to lay on the ground. He put his hands over his head just for good measure.

Nembia was unaware that she was being followed and had crossed the street. She was half a block down when the dropships disrupted the atmosphere. Newspaper swirling in front of her along with tentacles of her hair whipping her face made her trot to a halt. Turning on her heel she watched as dirt settled in the air about the dropships. The loud telecom voice made her gasp and freeze although she did not lower.

Cha'riana Dk'tahg stepped over the supine corpse of a young man who suffered an extreme reaction to using profanity in front of a lady ... Between the thick, hazy smoke, patches of flame, upturned furniture, and piles of bodies - and now the entrance of the Klingon Defense Forces - she had given up on finding her husband and Terran son, at least for now, and was merely waiting for the whole, unfortunate incident to finally end.

The dropships opened up their rear hatches and unloaded their deadly cargo: heavily armored Klingons carrying riot shields and painsticks. They immediately encircled the guests and began forcing people to the ground, handcuffing them and taking them away to be identified and sorted according to status and position. Within minutes the fighting and phaser fire ceased, leaving only living Klingons laying on the ground amidst the corpses of several dozen dead ones.

Nembia's back pressed against the wall. With wide eyes she watched as armed Klingons walked out from large bay doors and began to rally up those surrounding the chapel. They most be the police. Even the people her thoughts had affected were being forced to lay on their stomachs. Her eyes nervously slipped between the painsticks and the people on the ground. Should she interfere? She might be new to the crew, with no emotional ties or cares about any of the members, but she was one of them. Besides, they were her ticket away from this shit hole. Her eyes, rimmed with blue as if she were almost recovered from a broken nose, shifted in her scull. Upon the ground she spied the humans and among them Korav. "Korav," she whispered aloud.

D'eVo calmly watched the brutal Klingon legal system take control of the situation (from his quiet corner of the chapel); his earlier hunch about his current 'celebrity status' onworld proved to be correct. The troops all but ignored him, even while they were currently arresting &/or brutalizing other wedding guests. Without passing him more than the occasional sidelong glance, the government troops went about their business, leaving everyone else to stand and watch ...

Z'ox Dk'tahg jammed the disruptor pistol back into his belt, adjusting his thick garments around his even thicker belly as he did. He then stood, at ease, waiting for the Defense Forces to get around to ID'ing him, recording his statement, and picking up the rest of the trash. Z'ox didn't relinquish any of his weapons, or put aside his rank and authority for the incoming police forces, although he thought it highly suspect that "it took THIS long for 'the authorities' to show up!" as he looked around at the smoldering mayhem around him.

===At the center of the fray====

Reggie reached Diana, and threw his arms around her. "It's over, it's over," he repeated until he felt her relax. "Drop the bat'leth, Di," he instructed. "It's okay." She let go, and he eased them both on to the ground. He held her until her breathing returned to normal.

Diana bit her lower lip. Her stomach lurched at the sight and smell of death around her. She had walked up the aisle prepared to die, but the Rag'na'roks had foreseen any number of outcomes, and come prepared--prepared to massacre her and everyone she cared about. So, why did she feel so guilty? She felt like a failure whenever a situation degenerated to violence. Knowing that it wasn't her fault wasn't helping. She fought back the urge to vomit. Her eyes stung. She closed them, and willed herself not to cry; not to show any sign of weakness.

The stranger glanced at the woman with a strange, faraway look in his eye. It lasted only a split second before he took off, racing through the still-crowded back rooms of the house, exiting out the back. He scrambled across open ground to reach the building behind the chapel, disruptor blasts kicking up the dirt at his feet. He dove through a window into the building and disappeared into a maze of slums behind it, losing his pursuers quickly in the squalor of the Klinzai lower castes.

D'eVo - now relaxing semi-comfortably, his back against the wall - watched as a new pair of Klingon police officers straggled into the area. The duo looked around, and, seeing that all the other officers were currently busy with other tasks, started to approach D'eVo, cautiously, yet with an air of absolute, exaggerated authority.

===Meanwhile===

Korav grunted as he was roughly hauled to his feet by two Klingon soldiers.

"What is your purpose here, HUMAN?!!" The soldier barked into his face.

"I'm a guest of House To'Var!! I work for Siridon Arms!" Korav winced as the Klingons roughly patted him down and twisted his arms behind him so that he could be cuffed.

"Bah! Offworld SCUM!!" The Soldier spat. "Put him with the rest of the garbage!!"

"You wouldn't happen to have seen another Human running around, would you?" Korav inquired as he was dragged away. "Female? Dark hair? Scar on her lip?" The soldiers didn't reply.

Korav found himself tossed onto the ground with a group of Axel crew members, ringed by a squad of soldiers.

"Well.... what a wedding, eh?" Korav said to the group. "Wonder if we still get food...."

Nembia, walking with her knees crouched, ad managed to come up to the side of one of the hot dropships, careful not to place her hand upon it. Franticly she tried to implement the thoughts of the Klingon soldiers but she was weak from manipulating those at the wedding and could not make sense of anything she heard. Her eyes darted from Korav, who faced down and away from her and toward one of the guards. She juggled with indecision as she slowly rose to keep her thighs from cramping.

"ON THE GROUND!" A rough hand shoved her down, flattening her breast. The boot on her back made sure that they concaved into her chest cavity. Her complaint about the pain was ignored as a handcuff, similar to a zip-tie, was fastened onto her wrists. She was carried without effort to the pile of garage and dropped directly onto Korav's back. Without word the Klingon turned and left. It took effort to roll off of Korav until she was faced down beside him. Her chin hit the

pavement hard, rattling her teeth. "Shit," she whimpered pitifully.

"Heeey!" Korav said with mock casual mirth. "Welcome! Got tired of running around, did you?"

"Damn it," she barked about the unmoving cuffs as she turned her cheek against the ground and watched the actions about her. A Klingon girl was trying hard not to lash out as herself and her mother was forced to the ground. They had not been at the wedding but had lingered to argue about a new dress the daughter had wanted. What was happening? Again she tried to read various minds. Only a loud buzz echoed in her ears. "Are you alright?" She asked with her head still turned away.

"Yeah....." Korav replied. "You?"

"I -was- out of their...zoning." She was glad her face was away from his. It hid her dropped eyelids and her self doubting expression. Why had she come back? "Look I don't know why I came back." She stated with a pout as she flapped her face on the other cheek. "I take it they don't like the shoot out."

"Ya think?" Korav said, trying to get comfortable in his awkward position. "Man I'm hungry...."

"Too bad. I could smell the crab claws in the lobby on my way in." She gave an unexpected, short-lived chuckle.

"You are one strange lady....." Korav sighed. "Been mucking around too much in other peoples' minds I see...."

Nembia's eyes shifted between the pavement and the sky above. So what if he knew already? They would all find out eventually. She exhales, unable to help her jaw tighten. It would be awkward enough for her to grow comfortable around the other crews members. Now it would strange for them too. "I told you I was a Mari when we met. Don't you know anything about them?" She snapped.

"No, actually, I have no clue who the Marians are, but I do know that you smell like a psycher, can opener, head prober...." Korav paused for a moment, remembering a scent from the past. "Our previous Chief Engineer was a psycher...... took me a while to figure out that scent too."

There was a scent? Nembia inched her nose to her shoulder and inhaled self-consciously. Sweat and blood was all she inhaled. Her eyes closed and her mouth flattened as she swallowed to keep from burping up bile. When her eyes opened again she planted them firmly on Korav. She didn't bother trying to read his thoughts. She would need sleep before she could do so to anyone again.

"What?" Korav said, replying to Nembia's stare. "Can't all species smell stuff like that?"

"Hmmmm. No. No I think it's just you. You're the freak." She exhaled, miffed at herself for snapping at him. "Look, I don't know what your Chief-" she paused as a solider passed them. The Klingons were finishing the round up in the street. Across the grass clearing she could hear other piles of people being sorted. Bodies bounced as the dead were flapped together. They did as though it were routine. Nembia felt a little ill at the sight and turned back to Korav. The solider passed. "...Engineer did or what not but-" Here she paused of her own accord. She had a plan to say that she wasn't the kind of mind reader to use it her advantage but that lie was WAY too easy to disprove now. "Well....I....look I'm not a monster. I don't like, make people shove pens in their eyes or anything. I've every right to defend myself! Some people can do it with a solid punch. I'm not the strongest person so I do what I can. It's not my fault-" She would ramble on in a wave of self defense lest he stopped her.

"Do you think my hands are completely bloodless?" Korav asked, raising himself up from his prone position. He worked at the restraints on his arms, trying to get some blood flowing to his hands. "I'm not blaming you for saving your own ass. I'm just letting you know that I'm on to you." He finished the comment off with a smirk.

Nembia gave a sigh as she shut up, rocking in place like a canoe to settle her bones against the ground. Given the situation, They were having a stupid conversation at the moment anyway. "So what do you think they'll do to us? Are there trials on...Q-ass or wherever the hell we are?"

"Anything from letting us go to putting us on trial for treason. Who knows?" Korav shrugged. "Maybe you could reach in there and find out?" He gestured towards the cranium of one of the Klingon guards.

"I -could- read their minds if I hadn't spent the most frightening nine minutes of my life using it to save my ass. Klingon minds are a

dense as their bodies look. I'm too tired." She exhaled again, laying her cheek against the pavement as she watched the last of the round up.

"More's the pity." Korav sighed.

"Shit, I think they -are- done." She restated as the clomping of boots came near. No one else seemed to be in their pile, at least anyone

with a pulse. "Hey-" She whispered frankly. "Is that a guy dead? If we act dead you think...?" Her eyes rushed from Korav's to the Klingons who was staring straight out him. They would really have to be dense to tell that they weren't alive with the way Nembia was whispering and had been flapping about. The solider lowered his cattle prong only to yank Nembia and then Korav onto their feet by their handcuffs. "Walk." He grunted as he shoved the cattle prong toward them. Behind her, Nembia could hear the electric sizzle of the weapon. A chill ran down her spine and she began to shake. Her eyes were red and watery and her teeth were clenched so hard they ached. She gave a quick look to Korav but something about him told her she would receive no measure of comfort from him.

--------

After a brief exchange between the two officers, the smaller of the two began to approach D'eVo at a quick pace. Passing a quick check to his right and left as he marched, the trooper unholstered the disruptor rifle slung around his back, and was in D'eVo's personal space within a few quick paces. D'eVo's only reaction was to lean forward, standing somewhat defiantly in the path of the armed, and completely armored, defense guardsmen.

The smaller, body-armored guard started in with the 'bad cop' routine, to a mixed reaction of annoyance and amusement, by the unarmed, street-clothed D'eVo Dk'tahg. "ON THE GROUND!" The man ordered, to which D'eVo calmly replied: "I think NOT." The officer raised his disruptor rifle, aiming it directly at D'eVo's head, and D'eVo calmly replied; "You don't know who I am, do you?!" Waving the man's rifle away from his face; D'eVo stated, flatly: "I am D'eVo chaL, sai-Ves'tai Dk'tahg, son of Z'ox, House of Dk'tahg. Feel free to run my biosigns and any other data verification you want, but lower your weapon. NOW." The 'officer-on-the-scene' tilted his head, expressing (Concern? Surpise??) behind the black, obscuring helmet he wore ...

D'eVo watched; bored, aggravated, and even slightly amused, as the two officers conferred with each other, arguing about the Klingon noble's identity, the possibility of cloning, sensor masks, etc. He thought; "I wonder how the rest of the crew are doing ... Did Mom and Dad make it offworld before the fighting started?" D'eVo's thoughts started turning towards the well-being of his friends and family, even as his legal future was still being debated by the two guards in front of him.

Lurra Dk'tahg winced with a convincing scowl as she was being 'arrested.' She knew that her debriefing with the Klingon Intelligence Services would be far more comfortable and pleasant than the painful extraction of knowledge waiting the engineers and foot-soldiers of this failed social coup. "If only they act on time..." she fretted, even as she was being lifted into the back of a prison transport.

Diana rolled and arched backwards, but Reggie still had her pinned to the ground. "Do you mind?" she asked. "Leave me a little bit of dignity."

"The order to shoot came from Mekh'Tar, himself," Reggie said, but he relaxed his hold on her.

"No one's going to shoot me," Diana stated flatly. "I'm the bride, and this is my special day."

*******************

After wedding (love scene, breakfast, etc.)

*******************

Location: Open Arena with piles of corpses

Two armored soldiers approached the pair, saluting curtly before addressing her. "Mistress To'Var, the General is currently busy attending to the matter of prisoners, but he has sent us to ask if you would like to carry on with the wedding feast."

"Are you kidding," Diana said loud enough for everyone to hear. "The party's just getting started." Turning around looking for someone, she shouted, "Klag!" Seeing him helping Candy across the body littered training field, she yelled, "What did your lady say?"

Reggie wondered what his sister was up to. Klag was the Klingon that most likely saved her life; he brought information about her illness and injuries to them, as well as her location on Chetzia.

Klag looked to the very pregnant, very lovely, human woman at his side. "She says 'yes,'" Klag shouted back.

"Then let your wedding begin," Diana ordered.

In a matter of minutes, the soldiers had cleared out the bodies from the main hall and the dining area. The bodies were catalogued and then unceremoniously vaporized outside. Ash from the superheated carcasses drifted through several windows of the wedding chapel, creating a mock-festive carnival atmosphere as tables were flipped back over and the food (which had miraculously survived the carnage) was laid out.

General Mekh'Tar go on his megaphone once again, making a much more celebratory announcement than the one he'd bellowed out just hours ago.

=/\= Attention guests, the threat has been neutralized, and the guilty have been taken away. Those who would like to stay and partake in the wedding feast, feel free to do so. Tonight we dine over the bodies of our enemies!! Qapla!! =/\=

D'eVo watched as the government troops unceremoniously dragged the bodies of the fallen into the street, and then mass-disintegrate the lot. He attempted to scan the pile of carnage for anything familiar ... anything that might identify the lifeless corpse of a friend, crewmember or relative. Although he managed this morbid task with a great degree of cold precision, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief after finding nothing. Many of the bodies had been decapitated, or severely disruptor-burnt, making a thorough inspection extremely difficult - and the bulk vaporization of the evidence made it outright impossible.

After a few minutes of watching the atomic funeral pyre, D'eVo found himself absentmindedly shuffling back into the chapel (minus his official 'bodyguards'; who either completely disregarded him as a threat, or were too busy with clean-up detail, or both). It was at this point that he heard a gruff - and somehow familiar - Klingon voice bellow out over the chapel's PA system ...

One by one, the guests deemed non-threats were released from their restraints.

Korav sighed with relief when the Klingon soldiers released his restraints. He quickly set about to gathering up his crew.

"Nembia?" Korav called out. "You alright?" Then, "Daius? Cal?" Korav called out next. He motioned for Nembia to stay close.

Nembia glared at Korav's motioning hand. She would have been better off if she had stayed in at the bar he found her in. Less mentally scarred anyway. Tables boomed as they were slapped into place and kitchen employees went about setting out the meal. Where they seriously going to eat after all of that? Her opinion of Klingons was already low but she had once pitied the race but fear and more absolute loathing replaced it.

"I'll be at headquarters." She mumbled as she turned from gathering.

Suddenly, the room was pulsating from the deep, loud sound of bass and kettle drums, their insistent rhythm calling everyone's attention to the front.

"With fire and steel did the gods forge the klingon heart." Diana recited the service from memory; a memory from long ago, aboard the bridge of a bird of prey. She was 16, and 4 days later, she'd be a widow. "So fiercely did it beat," she continued, "so loud was the sound, that the gods cried out, 'On this day we have brought forth the strongest heart in all the heavens. None can stand before it without trembling.'" The Head of House To'var paused, before saying, "But then the klingon heart weakened. It's steady beat faltered. The gods said, 'Why have you weakened so. We have made you the strongest in creation.' And the heart said,"

Klag stepped up, and said, "I am alone."

"The gods knew that they had erred," Diana went on, "so they went back to their forges, and brought forth another heart."

Candy entered the room in a traditional red bridal dress that almost hid her pregnancy. She walked up the aisle to where Diana and Klag were standing. She and Klag each took up a bat'leth at this point in the ceremony.

"But, the second heart beat stronger than the first. The first was jealous of it's power."

Klag and Candy touched blades, then Candy pushed downward and upward; her blade now at Klag's throat.

"Fortunately, the second heart was tempered by wisdom," Diana said.

Candy said to Klag, "If we join together, no force can stop us."

Klag smiled and returned both weapons to the attendant, then held Candy gently in his arms.

"And, when the two hearts began to beat together," Diana went on, "they filled the heavens with a terrible sound. For the first time, the gods knew fear. They tried to flee, but it was too late. The klingon hearts destroyed the gods that created them, and turned the heavens to ashes. To this very day, no one can oppose the beating of two klingon hearts."

"Klag, son of Kor, does your heart beat only for this woman?"

"Yes," he replied.

"And, will you swear to join with her, and stand with her, against all who would oppose you?"

"I swear," Klag said.

"Candy, daughter of Delores, does your heart beat only for this man?"

"Yes."

"And, will you swear to join with him, and stand with him, against all who would oppose you?"

"I swear," she said.

"Then let all those present here today know that this man, and this woman, are married," Diana announced.

The couple kissed, and Diana concluded the wedding by saying, "Welcome to my house, the house of Ta'rok To'var, my late husband and inspiration. May you always be passionate, appreciative and in love with one another."

*******************