Star Trek: The Brave and the Bold: Book 2 by Keith R.A. DeCandido

Author:Keith R.A. DeCandido
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Star Trek, Fiction
ISBN: 9780743419253
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2002-12-01T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“SIR, WE ARE RECEIVING A PRIORITY CALL from General Talak,” Lieutenant Toq said from the operations console on the bridge of the I.K.S. Gorkon.

Finally, Captain Klag thought.

“He wishes the communication to be private,” Toq added.

Klag couldn’t imagine why that was necessary, but he was hardly about to question a general. Not even this one. “I will take it in my office.”

Then he had to get up.

Not, on the face of it, a difficult chore, but one that had presented more of a challenge these last few months.

It was a simple maneuver, one that Klag had performed without a conscious thought for most of his life: brace himself on the arms of the chair with his hands and push upward into a standing position. Then came Marcan V and the crash of the I.K.S. Pagh that had severed his right arm at the shoulder. He’d spent several months getting used to doing things with just the one arm—and eventually coming to the conclusion that he was a lesser warrior with only one good limb.

Then M’Raq, Klag’s father, died.

It had taken him just a few weeks to adjust to having only one arm after Marcan V, but it had been months since Dr. B’Oraq had grafted M’Raq’s right arm onto Klag’s shoulder, and still he was not accustomed to the new limb. For one thing, M’Raq was built differently from his son: shorter, squatter, and with a right arm that was three centimeters shorter than Klag’s left.

So now getting up from a chair became a major production. His left elbow bent more than his right elbow in order to brace himself. And no matter how many times he got up, he always listed to the right when he rose upward. Of course, he was conscious of this, tried to avoid it, failed, and listed even more to the right when he did so.

All this was magnified tenfold when he was on the bridge. He was the commander of a ship full of warriors. He had not had a say in his command crew when he was given the Gorkon, and they left much to be desired—at first. But over the months he had been their leader, they had turned into a crew that Klag would match against any in the Defense Force.

They deserved better than a captain who got out of his chair like an old woman.

Sure enough, he pushed himself upward and listed to the right. He did not, at least, stumble. Taking advantage of this, he quickened his gait toward the door to his office, keeping most of his dignity intact.

I will conquer this, he thought with anger. He had considered simply remaining standing when on the bridge, but that would be akin to admitting defeat. He had not admitted defeat when facing a Jem’Hadar squadron without benefit of a right arm on Marcan V; he was damned if he was going to do it now for so simple a thing as getting up from his chair.

“Commander Tereth, you have the bridge,” he said.

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