Requiem - Michael Jan Friedman [7]
The Gorn remained completely calm, keeping the same even tone he had used previously in polite speech, and for a moment Picard questioned if he had heard correctly. That moment of peace was horrifyingly short, however—and then all doubt was gone.
War, he thought, stunned. As all of the implications of the word sank in, Picard felt his stomach turn.
He would be a messenger of bloody conflict; his fine ship and crew would be the harbingers of destruction. His face flushed with that biting fear.
“You may go,” Keeyah said. A Gorn took Picard by the arm and led him out toward the door.
The human shook off the Gorn, angrily. He would … he would …
Not!
Picard turned on his heel and faced Leader Keeyah. For a moment he didn’t have the slightest idea what he would say. Then it came.
“No.”
“This is not a request, Captain.” The Gorn’s whole demeanor changed. Gone was the pretense of courtesy. He drew himself to his full height and then lifted his head further, exposing his throat.
Picard didn’t know anything about Gorn body language, but he was quite sure that it wasn’t a polite gesture.
Around him, Picard sensed the other Gorn in the room tensing, waiting expectantly. For him to leave? Or …
Then suddenly he was moving, propelled not by a plan, or a thought, but by a feeling.
“I …”
The captain took three quick strides.
“… said …”
Face-to-face with Keeyah, Picard clenched his fists and turned his head, shouting his words up the half meter distance to the Gorn’s face.
“NO!”
And his right fist drove upward as well, aiming not for the face, or head, but the still-exposed throat.
The Gorn snapped his head down in defense, muffling the blow, the scales around his mouth turning down in what Picard assumed was surprise. Still propelled by the feeling that he knew was his only chance, the captain took advantage of Keeyah’s momentary disorientation. He placed his left foot behind the Gorn’s and shoved the larger creature—hard, with both hands. Keeyah crashed down to the floor, falling flat on his back.
In surprise, Picard noted that the fist he had used to hit the Gorn still carried the electronic message device, which had given the blow extra weight. The human felt the continuing rush of adrenaline and the warm flush on his face. If his instincts were right, and luck was with him, the Gorn would spare his life. But if he were wrong and Leader Keeyah got up to fight, the alien could kill him with a single blow.
The Gorn rose slowly and looked directly at Picard, this time with his head turned down. It was either to protect his throat from further attack, or—as the captain hoped—as some sort of a gesture of respect.
The blow came an instant later. The fact that Picard was ready for it did nothing to dull its impact. Keeyah simply swatted the human on the shoulder with one hand and sent him sprawling backward, landing hard on his other shoulder. Rolling into the fall, Picard dropped the Gorn device and drew his phaser as he got to his feet, taking a split second to check the setting before he fired it.
The blue beam of the phaser’s heavy stun setting lit the room and struck Keeyah directly in the chest. For a moment, the alien simply stopped all movement and then fell unceremoniously on his back.
As Keeyah lay motionless, Picard realized that the eyes of every Gorn in the room were on him. Will I have to fight them all? the human wondered, though they seemed to be remaining still. Then the one on the floor began to stir. Quickly and steadily, he rose to his feet, apparently already shaking off the effects of the stun.
Keeyah eyed Picard and slowly moved closer to him, until they were face-to-face. Tensed for another attack, the captain wondered if he would have time to fire before the next blow came. I thought they were supposed to move slowly, he thought.
When the lizard-being didn’t strike him, Picard had a moment’s hope that there might still be a way to salvage the situation.
“You challenge me,” the Gorn said through the translator, “you challenge