Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [67]
Alexander looked at him. “A blindfold?” he echoed.
“Right-you can’t see. That makes it pretty important to have a good sense of balance. And to be able to anticipate your enemy’s moves. Here, let me show you what I mean.”
Again, the first officer looked to the stalactite-riddled ceiling of the cavern. “Computer, I need a blindfold.”
A band of white cloth materialized in Riker’s hand.
Grasping it, he approached the Klingon warrior. Then the first officer tied the blindfold around his head, covering his eyes, and raised his battelh in front of him.
“Computer,” he called, “resume program.”
Riker heard the rustling that meant the warrior had come back to life. Taking a step back, he felt for a stalagmite with his heel-and found one. That told him how far backward he could go.
A moment later, he heard the derisive grunt that signified the Klingon’s recognition of what he was facing.
Clearly, he didn’t expect a man who couldn’t see to put up much of a fight. Under normal circumstances, he’d probably have been right.
But the first officer had been honing his skills at anbojytsu since he was eight years old. He no longer needed a proximity detector to sense an attack coming, or to know what to do about it. And even though he had a battelh instead of a three-meter-long staff in his hand, a twohanded weapon was pretty much a twohanded weapon.
Listening carefully, Riker heard a sharp intake of breath. Bracing himself, he allowed his instincts to take over. Without actually thinking about it, the first officer found himself moving to block a blow from the warrior’s right hand.
Careful to remain balanced, attentive not only to what he heard but also to what he smelled and felt in the movements of the air, Riker parried a second attack from the same quarter. And a third.
Apparently, the Klingon was going to keep trying the same thing, over and over again. Either he had some idea that the human was more vulnerable there or the warrior was himself limited. Say, by a wound he’d sustained before Riker arrived.
There was only one way to find out. Before his opponent could strike again, the first officer shifted the battelh in his hands and swung hard at the Klingon’s left side. He heard a cry of apprehension, then felt his blade connect with something solid. It made a chukt as it sliced through leather body armor and maybe flesh as well.
The warrior cried out, then made a shuffling sound. A moment later, Riker heard him grunt as he hit the ground. Then there was a clatter, as of something metal.
“Freeze program,” he said.
Removing his blindfold, the human surveyed his handiwork. The Klingon was on his back, clutching his left arm. His face was a mask of pain, his battelh lying at the base of a stalagmite.
Riker turned to Alexander, who was looking at him with a new respect. The first officer smiled. “I guess you get the picture.”
The boy nodded. “But how did you-?”
“Practice,” Riker told him. “Want to give it a shot? I’ll be your sparring partner.”
“Okay,” said Alexander.
Coming around behind him, the first officer placed the blindfold across the boy’s eyes and tied it. Then he stepped in front of him with his battelh.
“Here we go. Keep your feet wide apart for balance.
With all these stalagmites around, it’s easy to trip. Now, listen as hard as you can, and tell me what I’m doing.”
Taking care not to make too much noise, Riker moved to his right. At first, the boy seemed confused. Then he turned in the right direction.
“That’s good,” said the first officer. “You’ve got sharp ears.”
This time, he moved to the left. Again, Alexander hesitated for a second. Then he seemed to find Riker’s position.
The first officer didn’t say anything right away. He wanted to see if the boy wavered in his conviction. But Alexander continued to stare in the same direction.
“Excellent,” the first officer noted. “Keep trusting your senses and you’ll be fine. Now, the toughest test of all.”
Moving to his right again, he shifted his battelh from one hand to the other,