Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [57]
He was right. This one was a lot more difficult.
Actually, it was an adaptation of a program Worf himself had used when he first arrived on the Enterprise.
Of course, a Klingon had been inserted in place of a Pandrilite and it was restricted to Level One, whereas Worf had bumped it up to Level Three at times. But otherwise, it was pretty much the same.
For instance, if his adversary’s bat’telh connected, it would hurt like crazy. All the more reason, thought Alexander, not to let it do that.
The Klingon struck again, this time coming from above. Anticipating the move, the boy stepped to the side and launched an attack of his own-a swipe halfway between the vertical and the horizontal.
It wasn’t the best countermove Alexander had ever made. Far from it, in fact. But fortunately for the boy, his opponent had overextended himself.
Before the Klingon could withdraw again, Alexander dealt him a nasty blow to the left shoulder. If an adult’s strength had been behind the blow, it might have made a bloody ruin of the joint.
As it was, it didn’t even pierce the Klingon’s body armor. But it did make his arm twitch-an indication that the boy had done some damage after all. Gritting his teeth, the warrior switched his bat’telh to his other hand.
Alexander was about to try to capitalize on his enemy’s weakness when he saw an irregular pattern open in the stone wall. Of course, that wasn’t going to stop the Klin on.
He launched another assault, this time one-handed.
Still, it was every bit as vicious as the first. The boy stepped back and nearly tripped on a stalagmite, but managed to keep his feet. And somehow, he deflected the attack.
Then , before he could be pressed any further, a voice said: “Freeze program.”
The Klingon stopped moving. Alexander noted how much less threatening his adversary looked frozen in midmaneuver.
“Sorry to interrupt,” said Riker, stepping through the opening. Behind him, one of the ship’s corridors was visible. Bright, austere, and streamlined, it provided a jarring contrast to the subterranean depths of the cavern.
“I just thought I’d look in on you. See how you were doing, you know?”
The boy looked at him. “I guess.”
The first officer indicated Alexander’s bat’telh with a tilt of his chin. “You’ve gotten pretty good with that thing.”
Alexander knew it was less than the truth. His friend was just being kind. “Not as good as I’d like,” he said.
Riker regarded him. “In that case, maybe I can help.”
He looked up at the ceilingful of stalactites. “Computer.
I’d like a battelh, appropriate size and weight.”
A moment later, a blade materialized in his hands. He hefted it, then nodded his satisfaction and eyed Alexander.
“Ever heard of anbojytsu?” he asked.
The boy shook his head. In fact, he hadn’t heard of it.
And more to the point, he had no idea what it had to do with his combat program.
The Klingon named Majjas sat in his heavy, carved chair against the far wall of his central hall, his white hair glistening in the light from several tall windows. He smiled beneficently.
“This is quite a day,” said Majjas. “Not only do I have the pleasure of meeting the Emperor Kahless and renewing my acquaintance with the sons of Mogh, though that would be honor enough. I am fortunate to have beneath my roof the esteemed Arbiter of Succession.”
Picard smiled back. It wasn’t just the slightly ironic twist the Klingon put on the word “esteemed” that elicited the human’s admiration. It was the fact that Majjas had not waited for his wife to make introductions, but had glanced at each of his visitors in turn and identified them all without the slightest hesitation.
Not bad for a blind man, the captain thought. Especially one without a VISOR to rely on.
Apparently, Majjas had lost his sight several years ago in a weapons-room accident on a Klingon bird-of-prey.
The scars that wove their way through the flesh around both his eyes bore mute testimony to that-though it was difficult to see the man’s eyes themselves, slitted