Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [95]
Without hesitation, he joined the captain in his pursuit.
As they darted out of the hall into a curving corridor, Picard caught sight of their objectives. One was Lomakh, the conspirator they had spied on in Tolar’tu. The other was an even taller and stronger-looking Klingon named Tichar.
No doubt, Kahless would have been perfectly willing to take on both of the plotters by himself. Fortunately, that wouldn’t be necessary. The clone may have begun this fight all on his own, but it wouldn’t end that way. He had help now.
Meanwhile, Lomakh and Tichar led them through one winding passageway after the other, their heels clattering on the stone floors. But they couldn’t shake their pursuers. Kahless was like a bulldog, refusing to let go. And though the captain was no longer the youth who had won the Academy marathon, he was hardly a laggard either.
Of course, their chase couldn’t go on forever, Picard told himself. Sooner or later, Lomakh and his comrade had to hit a dead end of some sort. Then they would have no choice but to turn and fight.
Events quickly proved him right. Racing down a short, straight hallway, the captain got the impression of a large ” dim room beyond. As he and the clone entered it, they saw it had no other exit.
Lomakh and Tichar were trapped inside. But that didn’t mean they intended to go down without a struggle.
As luck would have it, they had stumbled onto an armory of sorts. There were bladed weapons of all shapes and sizes adorning the far wall, along with a variety of other, more arcane devices. Unarrh, it seemed, was a collector of such things.
First Lomakh reached for a battelh, then Tichar did the same. Grinning, they advanced on Picard and his companion, shifting their weapons in their hands as if looking forward to what would come next.
“Bad luck,” Kahless muttered.
“It seems that way,” the captain agreed.
He gauged his chances of getting past the conspirators to obtain a battelh of his own. The odds weren’t very good at the moment. Gritting his teeth, he weighed his other options.
He and Kahless could give ground, perhaps go back the way they came. But if they went back far enough, Lomakh an d Tichar might find a way out of Unarrh’s complex.
And once they did that, they would have a chance to escape.
Picard knew he couldn’t live with himself if these two got away. He recalled the faces he saw in the ruins of the academy on Ogat-the faces of the innocent children who died at the hands of the conspirators.
No one should be able to do that with impunity, he thought. Lomakh and Tichar would have to pay for their crimes. And if they had some other outcome in mind, they would have to go through the captain in order to obtain it.
“Out of our way!” growled Lomakh.
“Not a chance in Hell,” Kahless shot back.
“You’d rather die?” asked Tichar.
The clone’s eyes narrowed. “There are worse things, ‘tahk!”
Kahless” lips pulled back past his teeth in a feral grin.
He rolled his dk tahg in his hand. Clearly, he had come too far and fought too hard not to see this through to its conclusion.
Picard had to admire his courage and his persistence.
Perhaps this was not the Kahless of legend, but the clone had the heart of a hero.
The conspirators seemed to think so, too. The captain could see it in their eyes, in the way they hunkered down for battle. Despite their advantage in the way they were armed, they knew this would not be easy for them.
For a moment, there was only the echo of advancing footfalls on the floor, and the glint of firelight on their blades, and the pounding of Picard’s heart in his chest.
Then Kahless sprang forward like a maddened bull and the combat was joined.
The armory clattered with the clash of metal on metal as the powerful Tichar met the clone’s attack with his bat’telh. At the same time, the captain saw Lomakh come shuffling toward him sideways, bringing his