An Abbreviated Untitled Klingon Story

[TVala]

L’nis frowned dauntingly at the landscape around him.  It was a forest, not a plain.  His comrades drew their weapons.  As a sea of men appeared, getting ready to attack, horncalls split the air.  A group of 50 fighters with a woman riding at their head, leading, appeared.  As one, they charged the group which prudently ran.  “They just saved our lives.”

“Terrific.  We owe our lives to Terrans who let a female lead them.”



Martok had enough problems on his hands without having them compounded by not being able to find a suitable mate for the marriage that would enable their two peoples to ally.  He snarled in annoyance and half of the 40 women standing in front of him quaked.  The other half didn’t bother; they ran.

“Do you have any other single females?”

“No.”

“No others?”

“There is one.  She is ummm..”

“Take me to her.”

They mounted horses and pounded to a military encampment.  Martok grinned wolfishly when he saw a woman sitting with a group of men, listening to some tale.  A grizzled warrior finished with his tale and the whole table erupted in a roar of laughter.  There was his son’s mate.

He sat down by the woman.  “A long life and good health to you, High Councilor,” she greeted him.  

“That’s the Klingon High Councilor?  What is he doing here?”

“Uh oh.  Chelsea I’d run as far and as fast as I could.  He is going to ask you to marry his son.”  

“Why would he do a stupid thing like that?”

“Yeah, she’s ugly, disrespectful, and…”

“Hey!  I am not ugly!”

An hour later Martok had cornered Chelsea in her tent and persuaded her that she had to marry Lytol, his son.  It was her duty to her king and her country.  Finally she agreed.

The date was set and Chelsea went to the planet to be prepared by his wife, Sirella, for the ceremony.  Lady Sirella stood in Chelsea’s quarters looking her most disapproving.  She had to ‘welcome’ this wench into the family, true, but she didn’t have to be nice to her.  The women walked over to her.  She was wearing her army uniform.  The nerves in her voice showed.  “Good health and a long life to you ma’am.”

“Hmpff.”

Chelsea sent Martok a “help me” look and a warrior standing next to him chuckled.  “What’s so funny?”

“She has faced a giant, fought in battles while outnumbered five to one, and fought god only knows how many immortals, but she is terrified of that one lady.”

“It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s hilarious.”



Meanwhile, Chelsea was alone with Sirella.  The lady led her down a hall and into a maze of corridors.  “There is your wedding dress.  Put it on.”  Chelsea turned and took off her shirt.  Lady Sirella walked over to touch a mark on her shoulder.  It was scar traced in an “X”.  It had clearly been put there on purpose.  “Who?”

“It’s the disowning mark, ma’am.  When your family disowns you, that mark is placed on you to mark you as disowned by your family.”

“Disowns you?”

“Yes, ma’am.  No noble will treat me as anyone higher than a common foot soldier.”

“But aren’t you some sort of hero?”

“To those who have fought under my command, yeah.  To others, no.  To put it mildly, I became a pheasant when I was disowned for wanting to be a knight.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?  You didn’t disown me.”

Lady Sirella shook her head and she and her daughter-in-law talked, becoming fast friends.  Finally, she stood and said softly, “Chelsea, it’s time.” Slowly, Chelsea stood, rolling her shoulders like a boxer heading into a fight.  “You are getting married, not riding into battle.”

“Right.  You are positive of this?  To me it is the same thing.”

“I am.”

“Okay, after you, then.”



For Chelsea, the wedding zoomed by.  That was a good thing, as deciding to do something was very different from doing it.  She was sorely tempted to run for her life throughout most of the ceremony.  It had taken all of her will to take off the veil, and walk to the dais.  Her husband stood at the top, waiting.  Finally she stood in front of him.  Only her eyes revealed fear.  He clamped a restraining but gentle hand on her shoulder.  “Relax, I won’t run.  I would be lucky to get 5 paces before someone stops me.  Let’s get this over with, shall we?”  He smiled slightly, and Chelsea relaxed.

   The banquet afterward turned out to be a true test of Chelsea’s fortitude.  All of the food moved.  It took her several tries to capture her food.  Then it wriggled off the fork before she got it to her mouth.  She glared at her plate, and tried again.  It took her ten minutes to get a bite.  “All that work for one bite.  I’m gonna starve to death aren’t I?”  Her husband laughed and Chelsea joined in.  She smiled.  “You know,  maybe this won’t be so bad after all.  I’m Chelsea.  What is your name?”

                “Lytol.  You know you are going about this food all wrong.  You are supposed to wait for the prey to come to you.”

“Yuh huh.”



(Edit -- reformatted with TVala's permission.)