Read Online Star Trek: The Original Series: Seasons of Light and Darkness by Michael A. Martin - Free Book Online Page A

giant.
    â€¢ • •
    Juice and fruit pulp dripped from McCoy’s right hand as he circled around Huuk’s substantial flank. Coming to a stop about five meters directly behind the warrior, he noted with relief that Lieutenant Plait was still on his feet; he looked wobbly and pale and terrified but was otherwise unscathed.
    That was obviously only a temporary condition.
    The doctor paused for a heartbeat to ratchet up his courage before proceeding with the next phase of his ad hoc plan. Which was precisely when Huuk did something utterly unexpected.
    The Capellan extended his sword, pommel first, toward the terrified science officer. “Take it, Earthman,” the warrior rumbled, sounding almost amiable. “You will need a good stout weapon to properly appreciate the gift of combat.”
    McCoy watched in silence as Plait took the massive sword with both shaking hands, nearly losing his balance in the process. He regarded the weapon with fear-swollen eyes, groaning with the strain of keeping the blade’s tip off the ground.
    McCoy noticed that the sword was vibrating as though electrified, though it was merely keeping time with the trembling of the lieutenant’s arms. I hope to hell he knows which end of that thing is supposed to be the dangerous one.
    â€œWhat . . . what are you going to use?” Plait asked the warrior, obviously doing whatever he could to buy himself a few additional final moments of life.
    The warrior merely laughed, as though Plait had made a wonderfully droll joke.
    â€œAttack me, Earthman,” Huuk said once he’d regained his composure. He gathered himself into a practiced martial arts stance, his knees bent and his ham-sized hands raised and at the ready. The warrior’s weird rictus-smile returned with even greater intensity than before.
    Thanks to the flickering firelight, McCoy was becoming uncomfortably aware of the many pairs of Capellan eyes that had seen this entire tableau—including his attempt to sneak up on one of Usaak’s warriors. Fortunately, none of these witnesses had so far alerted Huuk to his approach, perhaps because nobody considered the doctor to be in any way dangerous. Nor had Plait given away McCoy’s presence, either because he was actually calmer than he looked or because he was giving Huuk his completely undivided attention.
    Why in blazes is nobody doing anything to stop this guy? McCoy thought. Whatever bizarre cultural practice was playing out here evidently trumped Subteer Usaak’s strict no-weapons-for-the-guests policy.
    Then the doctor noticed that the pieces of dripping Capellan fruit in his hand were growing unpleasantly warm and sticky. This is never going to work , he thought.
    The sword in Plait’s shaking hands seemed to oscillate like a tuning fork. In spite of that, the science officer continued to stand his ground with courage, neither retreating nor advancing. Or perhaps he simply couldn’t move.
    â€œI have granted you the gift of combat, Earthman,” Huuk said at length. “As well as the right to claim the first blood.” The warrior seemed to be confused, or perhaps even insulted, by the science officer’s failure to mount an immediate attack.
    â€œUh . . . thank you?” Plait said. His feet remained planted, as though they’d thrown down roots.
    Huuk sighed and shook his head. “Very well then.”
    Without uttering another word, the warrior began his barehanded—yet obviously still deadly—advance.
    Time’s up , McCoy thought. Hoping that nobody among the nearby Capellan observers had succeeded in smuggling in a kligat , he called out with as much volume and authority as he could muster.
    â€œHey, Huuk! Over here, you big gorilla!”
    Turning on one heel with the grace of an Orion dancer, the huge warrior suddenly modified his advance—which meant that he was now headed straight for McCoy. Behind Huuk, Plait allowed