The batleth’s blade came within bare inches of tracing a deep and mortal groove across Kenneth Dumaka’s throat. The Section 31 trainee fell backwards, converting his tumble to the mat into a smooth roll which he used to hop back on his feet. The Klingon came at Ken with another slashing hook that missed by a wider margin. Ken leapt to one side, avoiding the attack at the same time thrusting the tip of his own batleth toward his opponent’s neck. Swiftly, the Klingon looped his blade about, knocking Ken’s weapon aside. Adopting a double grip, the Klingon’s arms shot out. He tilted his left arm and the batleth’s left blade tip dug into the human’s pectoral, before the latter could execute a block. Ken grimaced. The wound was superficial, but it still stung like hell.
Ken hesitated for a split second before deciding to go with a mid level lunge intended to gut his adversary. That was his problem. He was thinking too much. And he realized that when the Klingon’s foot lashed out, crashing into his chest as Ken was rearing back to implement his maneuver. Ken went down hard, the wind all but knocked out of him. The Klingon’s wild eyed fierceness glowed with the expectation of a very imminent victory. Ken was at a disadvantage and he knew it. The Klingon would pound and pound relentlessly on the downed human in a mindless frenzy. Ken would’ve been able to block a succession of blows, but unless he came back to his feet, he was essentially helpless. Sooner or later one of those hammering blows would have bypassed Ken’s guard and this exercise would be over.
Ken reached into his boot, pulled out a thin, sturdy knife and lobbed it at the rapidly advancing Klingon. The knife’s blade sailed a short gap before planting itself just below the Klingon’s left eye. The Klingon let out a pained roar. Ken exploited his opponent’s distraction by swinging his batleth at ground level, sweeping the Klingon’s feet from under him. The Klingon landed on his shoulder. Ken raised his batleth and brought the blunt end down in a chopping motion upon the Klingon’s head. The Klingon’s motion ceased.
Ken took a quick breather, then stood. He bent down, plucked his small knife out the unconscious Klingon’s face and tucked it back into his boot.
“Underhanded means to a victory,” Jutakkh, Ken’s batleth trainer, declared. “A victory worthy of a Romulan.”
“A victory by any means is worthy,” Ken tossed back with unapologetic swagger. Of course for all of Jutakkh’s talk of Klingon honor, Ken saw clear approval in the grizzled warrior’s eyes.
“Spoken like a true Section 31 veteran.”
Ken and Jutakkh turned to see Howard Jordan entering the training room. The slim, gray haired man moved with a fluidic energy belying his advanced years.
Ken straightened. “Howard. This is a surprise.”
“Of course it is,” Howard chuckled. “It was meant to be. I like to drop in on my recruits from time to time, see how they’re progressing.”
“You can read the evaluations for that,” said Ken, letting the batleth rest on his shoulder like a rifle.
“I could,” Howard admitted. “But words on a pad don’t pick up certain intangibles that could be gleaned from first hand viewing.”
“Intangibles?”
“Yes. For example. I witnessed you defeat an opponent in a batleth contest where you introduced a non-regulation weapon into the fight. The fact that you brought the knife with you indicated your determination to achieve victory, even at the cost of fighting fairly.”
“I suppose I did violate the rules,” Ken said with a so-what kind of shrug. “Am I to be punished?”
Howard beamed amusement. He and the Klingon trainer exchanged grins.
Ken’s deep, ebon face concealed the blush underneath for what he took to be some kind inside joke at his expense.
“No, Ken, you most assuredly will not be punished for your initiative,” Howard praised. “However, you will be required to do one thing, and this is related to the matter of ‘intangibles’ I spoke of. You see, Jutakkh’s evaluation will state in neat professional prose that you prevailed over your opponent using an unconventional tactic no other trainee has used before. While I applaud that, I saw a shortcoming in your performance common to all trainees.”
Ken allowed his shoulders to slump ever so slightly. “Howard, I’ve only been training with the batleth for two weeks…”
“It’s not your batleth training, Ken. While recruits are trained in the martial arts of multiple species, we don’t expect championship level expertise, just a basic knowledge of various forms.” The older man shook his head. “No I’m referring to what I saw-or did not see- after your victory. I’m referring to what I see now, in your eyes, that intangible that can’t be conveyed through a report.”
A stifling blanket of self consciousness settled over Ken. “What do or don’t you see in my eyes?”
“No killer instinct,” Howard replied, frankly. “That’s what I don’t see. What I do see is the Federation. Federation mercy. Federation compassion. Federation fairness. Those things shine like a spotlight from your eyes. If you want to operate effectively in Section 31 you have to purge that light.”
“It boggles my brain how you humans ever fought us to a standstill given your pacifistic leanings,” Jutakkh ridiculed with a perplexed scowl.
Ken took a few seconds to study the Klingon. He couldn’t figure out how it was Jutakkh ended up in the Federation, in the employ of its most secret intelligence arm. The only information Howard offered was that Jutakkh was a disaffected former officer in the Klingon military.
Hell, Ken thought. If I was living in the Klingon Empire I’d be disaffected, too.
Howard gestured with his chin toward the unconscious Klingon. “I want you to kill him.”
Ken frowned and cracked a smile, hoping the old man was afflicted with a bout of strange humor. “Kill him?”
When Ken saw no humor in the old man’s suddenly frostbitten eyes, his face sagged. “Wait…I don’t understand. I won. What’s the point of killing him? That’s murder.”
Howard glanced at the Klingon trainer. “Exactly what I mean. Intangibles.”
Jutakkh exhaled a harsh grunt of agreement. He snatched Ken’s batleth, walked over to the downed Klingon and cleaved the latter’s skull with a ferocious, well delivered stroke.
Ken gasped aloud at this display of cold premeditated violence, provoking a disdainful snicker from the trainer. “He yelps like a distressed crone over the demise of a holographic program. What will he do when confronted with an opportunity to butcher real flesh and blood?”
Ken’s heart thumped madly as he watched his holographic opponent dematerialize in a digital haze. He shared Jutakkh’s sentiment. What would he do if faced with having to kill a real enemy in such a manner?
Another hologram of a batleth-armed Klingon materialized in the training room seconds after the ‘dead’ one vanished.
Jutakkh returned the batleth to the trainee.
“A few more drills should purge that light,” Howard commented, ignoring Ken.
“Either that or the darkness of death will claim him,” said Jutakkh. The two moved off to the side of the room, leaving the middle occupied by Ken and his new, photonic opponent.
Ken stared at the trainer. “Jutakkh, what are you talking about?” His eyes flicked to Howard. “What does he mean…?”
The hologram charged.
Ken threw up his batleth to block the incoming blow…
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