The Chains of Error - Chapter Nine (pt 2)
The three injured members of SMT-Twenty One who’d survived the explosion of the Bird-of-Prey’s bridge long enough to be medically stabilized were now under the care of the team’s medic. Lieutenant(j.g.) Blasille, though moderately injured herself, would remain behind with the shuttle to continue administering aid to the wounded as Lar’ragos, Lightner, and Ariel proceeded to the crash site on foot to ascertain the fate of the Maquis.
The heavy elements at the asteroid’s core, coupled with the centrifugal force of the body’s faster-than-normal rotation combined to give the planetoid near Earth-like gravity. Portable rebreather masks and injections of Tri-Ox compound would render the party able to breath for the duration of their search without the burden of cumbersome EVA suits.
It was slow going due to the foggy haze that shrouded the uneven, rocky terrain. Lar’ragos assumed the point position as the group picked their way carefully through a broken landscape that concealed a limitless number of hiding spots and potential ambush points.
“I hate to sound like a quitter,” Ariel remarked, her voice sounding muffled through the comms circuit in her rebreather mask. “But we’ve been at this for two hours, and we’ve only covered a few hundred meters of ground. I think we should hop back into orbit, contact Gallant or Gibraltar, and get some backup down here.”
“I’ll second that,” Lightner added uneasily as he eyed the misty outcroppings of rock that surrounded them.
Lar’ragos dropped to a crouch, allowing the emitter of his phaser rifle to dip momentarily as he took a much needed respite. He huffed dismissively at her comment, then after a moment he gave a fractional nod, as if making a difficult admission. “Yeah. I think you’re onto something there.” He stood, rolling his head back and forth to work out a kind in his neck. “I’d hoped this would be a quick recon to find a big smoking crater and then we could get the hell out of here. No such luck.”
A series of disruptor blasts stitched a glowing pattern of smoldering holes in the rock face as Lar’ragos threw himself face first onto the ground. He shouted something unintelligible over the team’s com-net as his rebreather mask tried to bury itself in the unyielding surface of the asteroid.
Ariel performed a shoulder-roll to her right, her phaser rifle firing enthusiastically as she sought cover behind a waist-high rock formation.
Startled by the sudden assault, Lightner swept his hand phaser back and forth, bathing a random arc in a near lethal wide-beam discharge that elicited screams and shouts from their as yet unseen enemies. He stumbled backwards, seeking cover as he lobbed a stun grenade into the concealing mists before tripping over uneven ground and toppling over onto his back with his arms flailing comically.
The surrounding miasma flashed a bright green with the grenade’s detonation, and then silence reigned.
Lar’ragos clambered gingerly to a crouching position as he scanned his surroundings through his rifle’s thermal sight aperture. “Everyone okay?” he whispered across their comms channel.
“Fine,” Ariel offered succinctly. “I spotted three targets to the north/north-east at about my eight o’clock position. Not sure I hit any of them, though.”
“I’m good,” Lightner replied, his voice shaky thanks to his surging adrenaline. “I think I hit someone, but I can’t say how badly.”
Lar’ragos withdrew a photon grenade from his tactical vest and thumbed the yield intensity to maximum. “Okay, after my grenade detonates, wait five seconds and then move in on that position.” He pressed the actuator and then stood to throw the device in the direction Ariel had seen the enemy.
A thunderous explosion and accompanying white flash heralded a fount of rocky debris that clattered down around the Starfleet members. The three were up and charging forward before the last of the stones had finished raining to the ground.
Lar’ragos vaulted over a thigh-high boulder to find a badly burned Klingon laying on the ground groping frantically for his disruptor pistol. The El Aurian shot the warrior in the face as he ran past, only to be clotheslined by a bat’leth that seemingly materialized from the mist to catch him in the chest with staggering force. Despite his armor, the impact drove the air from his lungs as his legs flew out from beneath him, and the jolting collision with the ground caused his head to spin as he gasped frantically for air.
The figure of Galmesh appeared over him, his bat’leth raised high over his head, poised for the killing blow Through his greying vision, Lar’ragos could see the gleam of exaltation in the Maquis commander’s eyes. For the first time in recent memory, Pava was unable to muster the strength to strike preemptively, or to roll out of the way of the forthcoming attack.
He sought some last, clever insult or witticism on the brink of death, but nothing came to him.
Ariel barreled into Galmesh as he began the downward arc of his blade, collapsing with him in a confused mass of thrashing limbs. The two crashed to the ground, grappling furiously as Lar’ragos clawed desperately at the surrounding rocks, trying to pull himself to his feet. He saw phaser fire flashing somewhere to his right, orange beams lancing through the fog that he attributed to Lightner.
Galmesh used his superior strength to roll atop Ariel. He clutched the bat’leth tightly and drove it blade first towards the Orion’s neck. Ariel parried the strike with the battered rifle she still clung to, gasping in exertion as her trembling arms sought to keep the razor-keen sword from decapitating her.
She bucked upwards with her hips, throwing the larger Klingon off balance and sending him toppling forward as he struggled to maintain a grip on the bat’leth.
Lar’ragos finally managed to stand atop wobbling knees and started towards the two intertwined figures. An energy blast slammed into him from behind, hammering between his shoulder blades to fracture his armor’s ablative ceramics. Lar’ragos collapsed yet again, smoke wafting from the scorched impact point on his back.
He rolled over just in time to witness the approach of a younger, human Maquis armed with an Angosian pulser. The youth was inexperienced, and sought the intimacy of a close-quarters kill with her weapon. Lar’ragos rewarded her enthusiasm by pulling his combat knife from its scabbard and driving it into the top of her boot in a lightening-quick move. His counterattack was so sudden and unexpected that she fumbled the pulse pistol and bent at the waist to claw at the stabbing implement that he’d driven completely through her foot.
Lar’ragos grasped a fist-sized rock from beside him with one hand as he pulled the woman to the ground by her long hair with the other. He bludgeoned her to death while roaring with frustration at his inability to reach Ariel.
Ariel meanwhile had scrambled out from under Galmesh to drive a knee into his side as the burly Klingon tried to regain his feet. In response he threw an elbow that caught her in the side of the head and caused her to stumble backwards. That gave Galmesh just enough breathing room to collect his sword and scrabble up into a crouch.
With a feral grin Ariel raised her phaser rifle and pulled the trigger, only to have the abused weapon malfunction. Galmesh brought his blade cleaving in from the side, and Ariel just managed to parry the blow with the inoperative rifle, but the force of the strike tore the weapon from her hands. She stepped back as Galmesh advanced, moving to draw her phaser sidearm from its holster at her waist.
As she brought the phaser up, however, Galmesh used the momentum of his last lunge to spin completely around and drive another strike at Ariel. She pressed the firing toggle and expected to see the beam incinerate the Klingon where he stood… only nothing happened. Ariel looked down with disbelief at the sight of her severed arm lying at her feet, the phaser still clutched in her hand. She glanced up at Galmesh just in time to see the powerful blow that struck her at the base of her neck and drove all the way down through her torso to lodge firmly in her midsection.
Ariel collapsed soundlessly and Galmesh wrestled with his blade, kicking at his deceased opponent as he tried to pry the bat’leth free from her body.
A bloodied rock caromed off his skull, sending the Maquis reeling as Lar’ragos plowed into him bodily. Galmesh lost his footing and fell back, anticipating his enemy’s continued advance. None was forthcoming, however, and the Klingon climbed back to his feet to find Lar’ragos circling him slowly, the man’s hands devoid of weapons.
Lar’ragos stripped off his armor a piece at a time, walking a slow circuit around Galmesh as he did so. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he clawed at the fasteners, straps, and buckles that held the protective garment in place. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve tried to die, Galmesh? How many occasions I’ve thrown myself into the fray, hoping, even praying that I’d be killed? It just won’t happen. Centuries pass, wars happen, worlds collide… and they still can’t kill me!”
“The woman who just died saving me… that should have been me. Me! Should have been… but it never is.” He stopped to inspect the phaser grasped in Ariel’s detached hand on the ground. Lar’ragos sneered with contempt as he stooped to pull his combat knife free from the boot of the female Maquis. “Do you think you can get the job done, Klingon? Are you up to the challenge, or are you simply a petaQ’ that hides in the shadows of greater men like Kincaid, feeding off the scraps from his table?”
Galmesh roared in challenge, pulling his disruptor from its holster and flinging it away. He drew his d’k tagh, dropped into a crouch, and began to match Lar’ragos’ movements. “Killing you would be a deed worthy of song, Commander. I know of one Great House in particular that would thank me for washing clean the blight you’ve left upon their honor!”
Lar’ragos paused to roll his eyes theatrically. “Sully the reputation of one Klingon princess and will they ever forgive a guy?” He then began to circle back the way he’d come, his eyes darting to various points on Galmesh’s body as he sized up his opponent. “Still… I have to admit… she was so worth it.”
The barb had the intended effect, spurring Galmesh to action as the warrior charged forward, his blade poised for a lethal strike. Lar’ragos ducked under Galmesh’s stabbing thrust, rolled, and came up with Ariel’s phaser in his hand. He pivoted sharply as he re-tuned the phaser, before sending a sustained burst of stun energy into the center of the Klingon’s back. Galmesh staggered, fumbled his knife, and wobbled around almost comically to face Lar’ragos with an expression equal parts dismay and outrage.
“You Klingons and your fucking honor,” Lar’ragos spat as he sent Galmesh crashing to the ground with another stun blast from his phaser. “Game, set, match,” he said with a disconsolate sigh as he collapsed heavily against a nearby rock.
He looked past Galmesh’s slumbering form to where Ariel’s remains lay splayed open upon the unforgiving soil of the lifeless moon. “I’m sorry. He couldn’t do it, either.” Lar’ragos rubbed his face with one hand, the mental and physical exhaustion from the battle settling upon him suddenly. “I’ll join you someday… but not today.” He wiped away the last of his tears with the sleeve of his body-suit, whispering quietly, “Say hello to my parents from me.”
After a time, Lightner appeared from out of the swirling mists looking worn and disheveled, but otherwise uninjured. The status telltales on his phaser were winking an ominous red, indicating that he’d nearly exhausted the weapon’s power pack. He stumbled wearily over to where Lar’ragos knelt beside Ariel’s body.
“I’m so sorry, Commander,” Lightner murmured.
“That makes two of us,” Lar’ragos replied heavily.
*****
Three hours later…
A combined security detail from Gibraltar and Gallant had arrived to collect the dead and captured Maquis, as well as hunt for any stragglers from the shuttle crash that might still be hiding among the asteroid’s craggy escarpments. The scene of Ariel and Galmesh’s final struggle fairly buzzed with activity now, the movement of others swirling around Lar’ragos, who sat against a rock in the same position he’d assumed moments after Commander Elannis’ death.
A Vulcan civilian robed in traditional vestments knelt beside Galmesh,who had been medically sedated some hours earlier and not allowed to wake from the unconscious state Lar’ragos had left him in. The Vulcan had been here for the better part of an hour, hunkered down over the Klingon, his long fingers pressed to Galmesh’s face. He finally stood and made his way over to where Captain Sandhurst leaned casually against a rock, clad in a thick field jacket with a rebreather mask affixed to his face.
“I regret to report that I have been unable to breach Colonel Galmesh’s mental defenses, Captain,” the man intoned soberly. “He is atypically disciplined,” the Vulcan continued, “for a Klingon.”
Sandhurst nodded as if expecting such an outcome. “I understand. We appreciate your efforts, nonetheless.”
The man inclined his head, then touched a Vulcan runic symbol on the front of his robe before vanishing in a decidedly non-Starfleet transporter effect.
Lar’ragos had followed the conversation purely out of habit, the Listener’s compulsion was ingrained on a genetic level. He closed his eyes for a long moment, only to find Sandhurst standing in front of him when he opened them again. The captain was looking down at him with an appraising expression.
He suddenly turned and sat down next to Lar’ragos. “I’m sorry about Elannis,” he said, his voice slightly distorted by the mask’s speaker.
Lar’ragos cocked his head thoughtfully. “She had a long and eventful career in the service,” he noted. “She survived all manner of dangers, battles, and adventures over the past thirty years, and ultimately all it took to kill her was signing on with us.” Pava smirked at his own dark humor.
“I seem to remember someone telling me once that soldiers die, even the very good ones,” Sandhurst replied gently.
Lar’ragos snorted derisively. “I know that guy. You shouldn’t listen to him. He doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.”
“I disagree,” Sandhurst countered. “He may be obstinate, disobedient, occasionally petulant, and ridiculously dangerous, but he knows his way around soldiering.”
A heavy sigh escaped Lar’ragos. “Go ahead and ask whatever it is you have to ask me.”
Thus prompted, Sandhurst forged ahead. “I have a dilemma, Pava. I have the Maquis and the Cardassians sitting at a conference table in orbit, and they’re having a civilized conversation about the future of the Maquis movement. They’re not yelling, they’re not making threats, they’re actually negotiating.”
“And?”
“And the sticking point in this whole delicate dance is the disposition of Galmesh and his entire cell. The Federation and the Cardassians won’t accept a proposed Maquis state unless all of Galmesh’s people have been captured or killed. From what we can tell,
those we’ve neutralized so far here in the Badlands account for approximately half of his cell’s overall numbers.” Sandhurst fixed his gaze on Lar’ragos, and for an instant the older man actually felt a flutter of intimidation at the look in his former captain’s eyes.
“What do you need from me?” Lar’ragos asked heavily.
“I need Galmesh to talk, willingly.”
“You want me to torture him for information?” Lar’ragos sneered at Sandhurst’s unbridled gall. “Well, Donald, you were dead on about not being able to trust yourself around me. All I am to you is a weapon, aren’t I? No different than a knife or a phaser array.”
“I said willingly, Pava. You’re not listening.” Sandhurst’s tone was a calm, patient counterpoint to Lar’ragos’ emotional tirade.
“How the hell am I supposed to convince him to talk?”
Sandhurst shrugged. “You’ve read Galmesh’s psyche profile, you tell me.”
Lar’ragos rolled his eyes. “I know he fancies himself the honorable warrior, despite all the horrors he’s committed.”
“And what might theoretically get an ‘honorable warrior’ to spill his guts?”
The two men sat in silence for a long moment before Lar’ragos spoke. “A duel.”
Sandhurst smiled behind his mask as if Lar’ragos had just reached a conclusion he’d been standing alongside for some time now. He patted the El Aurian on the arm as he clambered to his feet. “If you win, he tells us everything we want to know. If he wins, he walks.”
“You’d just let him go?” Lar’ragos asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Sandhurst confirmed. “It’s the only way to see this through.” He paused on the cusp of turning away. “Oh, and Pava, the only proviso is that he has to live.”
Lar’ragos raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And what if he wins, Captain? You know that he’ll kill me if he can.”
“I do,” Sandhurst agreed succinctly.
“And you don’t have a problem with that, sir?”
“No,” was Sandhurst’s icy response. “Do you?” He gave Lar’ragos an inscrutable look before turning away to confer with Lieutenant Verik.
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Taiee reluctantly handed Lar’ragos a hypospray loaded with a stimulant that would bring Galmesh to near-instant consciousness. She frowned, muttering, “This is not the captain’s best idea ever.”
Lar’ragos responded with a wistful smirk. “If nothing else, it demonstrates a certain level of trust he has in me.”
The nurse shook her head. “For all the wrong reasons, and you know it.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re a good friend, Issara. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for that.”
Taiee gave him a brief hug that elicited a raised eyebrow from the nearby Lieutenant(j.g.) Verik. Then she withdrew to join the security detachment that was preparing to beam back to the ship, leaving Lar’ragos and Galmesh alone on the surface.
Two of Verik’s security specialists recovered Galmesh’s discarded disruptor pistol and moved to confiscate his bat’leth, d'k tagh, and a host of other knives and daggers he had secreted on his person.
“No,” Lar’ragos announced. The men paused to glance up at the weary looking and unarmed El Aurian. Pava offered a wicked grin that everyone present found equally troubling. “Leave him his knives.”
Strange days.
