Phah! he thought sourly. These Earthers cannot even synthesize a passable imitation of q’ilvan. Perhaps this new Enterprise is a junkpile, just as we have heard. Captain Klaa, the commander of the Klingon bird of prey Okrona, regarded his glass of raw ethanol with a black scowl. He was not in the best of moods—not that his disposition could ever be described as sunny, anyway. But today had been an especially bad day.
The greatest achievement of his young, meteoric career had been wrested from his taloned grasp. He had come within a hair’s breadth of annihilating James T. Kirk, the most hatred, feared, and admired enemy in the history of the Klingon Empire. Had he succeeded, Klaa’s name would have been immortalized, mentioned in the same breath with Kahless the Unforgettable and Kazar the Terrible.
But he had been thwarted.
The agent of his misery stood only a few meters away, leaning his huge bulk against the ship’s wheel of an ancient Terran sailing vessel that, somehow, did not seem out of place in the forward observation deck of a Federation starship. General Korrd, drunken, obese, broken-down General Korrd, had seized command the Okrona from him, humiliating him in front of his crew. Korrd had been instrumental in rescuing Kirk from the ‘god-thing’ on the planet below by giving the Enterprise’s Vulcan first officer control of Klaa’s personal gunner’s rig—another insult!
But worst of all, the general had forced Klaa to apologize to Kirk. Apologize! And he, Klaa, had been helpless to do anything about it, bound by the Klingon code of honor that required him to defer to a ranking officer...especially when his own third and fourth officers were nephews of the general.
Klaa wanted to fling his glass across the room, to do something, anything, to vent his frustration. But he did not. It would be unseemly; after all, this reception was being held in part to honor him as the brave warrior who rescued Kirk. He consoled himself with the thought that Korrd’s brother-in-law wielded great influence with the High Command. The general had promised Klaa that his already brilliant career would be enhanced even further by what had transpired here on the rim of the Great Barrier.
Still, that did not quite compensate for the glory that would have been his had he been able to march into the High Command chambers and plop down the head of James T. Kirk in front of the Imperial councillors.
Ah, well, perhaps another day... The rustling creak of leather battle armor at his side turned his head.
"You are troubled, HoDwI’?"
The strong, elegant face of Vixis, his first officer, was etched with concern. Klaa’s obsidian eyes appreciatively traversed the length of her lithe body. By the gods, she was a prize! Beautiful, loyal, the most powerful female Klaa had ever known. Her dark eyes mirrored his sullen dissatisfaction.
"I was just thinking of the victory that eluded me here today, Vixis." He took a sip of the q’ilvan, grimaced, and set down the glass.
"You are still the greatest warrior in the galaxy," she whispered.
Klaa’s head snapped up. There was no mistaking the emotion in her voice, or the feelings she held for him. He had never been quite sure of her intentions in the short time he had known her. Often he had sensed that she was attracted to him; the way she looked at him, her gestures, her tone of voice. But he had never been certain. After all, Vixis had been born and raised as a q’laI warrioress, and they had a taste for womanflesh, even though they seemed to enjoy mating with males as well.
But now he was as certain as he had ever been of anything in his life. He was an unbonded male; he would be a fool to waste this opportunity. He smiled at her, and Vixis responded in kind.
Klaa suddenly felt a rush of desire surge through his loins. "Vixis, you have served me loyally and well," Klaa murmured. "I find myself...attracted to you. I would have you for my consort, if you are willing."
Her eyes widened. Her golden bronze skin flushed, and the bone crest of her forehead pulsed with excitement. "Oh, my captain," she breathed. "Never have I been more willing! Yes, I would be proud and honored to be your consort!"
"You are beautiful," Klaa said in a hoarse voice. "I am suddenly very eager to explore our new relationship!"
Vixis lowered her eyes, smiling self-consciously. "I know a place where we may go on this ship," she said.
Klaa’s eyes widened. "Indeed? I am intrigued, First Officer. Lead the way!"
***
The forward decks of the Enterprise’s cigar-shaped engineering hull appeared deserted. The lighting was extremely dim here; glow tubes set in the corridor’s baseboards cast a soft blue nighttime illumination. Klaa glanced around with interest. He gestured at the network of private observation alcoves built into webbing of hull braces and supports.
"These cubicles—this is where the Earthers go to mate?"
"Yes, my captain," Vixis whispered. "Privacy is held in high regard here." She gazed at him. Her lips were parted and her eyes seemed almost glassy. Klaa had an erection now that threatened to burst open the crotch flap of his uniform trousers. He could see the lust was rising in Vixis as well. She punched the cycle button on the access panel of one of the alcoves, and the hatch slid quietly open. The two Klingons stepped inside.
They were not alone.
Two young Humans already occupied the berth—a boy and a girl, actually. They were both naked. Both Humans were consumed with lust, totally oblivious to their visitors.
A dozen cubicles, and we choose one that is in use, Klaa reflected wryly.
As if sensing his thoughts, the female’s eyes flew open. She unleashed a shrill, full-throated shriek. The male’s back arched as he released himself.
"Excuse us," Klaa rumbled. "We were not aware that this alcove was in use. We can..."
But the two youngsters were in no mood for explanations. They leaped to their feet and bolted through the open hatch, leaving their scattered pile of clothing behind. The young woman’s screams slowly faded into the distance.
Klaa snorted, gazing out the huge circular port where he could see Okrona floating in space. "We could have gone to another cubicle," he growled. "The female was Kirk’s bridge yeoman. I do not think he will appreciate her running naked through the corridors."
"Kirk’s yeoman? How did you recognize her?" Vixis queried. "All Humans look alike to me."
"She has such a bizarre hairstyle—even for an Earther," Klaa returned.
Vixis quizzically eyed Klaa’s wild, flowing black mane, but said nothing. The desire that both of them felt, only temporarily dampened by their encounter, returned full force now. Klaa slammed the hatch shut. With almost frantic haste they peeled off one another’s battle armor and clothing until they both stood naked among a heap of jerkins and breastplates, enjoying the sight of each other’s perfect, thickly-muscled bodies. Vixis’ eyes dropped to his groin as if drawn by a magnet. She gasped aloud. "tIn choQ!"
It was enormous! His maleness was fully erect now, pulsing and throbbing like a thickly-veined obelisk that thrust almost straight up from the mat of black hair below his hard, flat rippled stomach. His three oval testicles were heavy with seed. They hung down like a trio of Kaferian apples between his muscular legs.
Vixis could bear it no longer. All the long months of waiting, of wanting him, all the frustration released itself in a low, throaty growl. She fell on him like some ravening beast. One of her hands curled around his monstrous shaft, and her tongue sought his.
Klaa shoved her halfway across the cubicle. She tripped over a lounge chair and unceremoniously fell smack on her bottom.
He laughed.
Vixis roared and charged at him.
With impeccable timing, Klaa delivered a savage backhand blow that caught her flush on the jaw and sent her reeling to the deck, dazed and disoriented.
He had been right—she did want him! She would indeed be a worthy consort. He steeled himself for her next move in their strenuous mating ritual.
Vixis was livid now. Snarling and spitting like a half-drowned she-cat, she grabbed the lounger by its arms. Powerful muscles bunched and rippled; with a protesting screech of rending metal and snapping bolts, the heavy chair tore free from its roots. Vixis hoisted it overhead and hurled it at Klaa.
Again he was ready for her. He caught the lounger in mid-air and shot it back at her like a medicine ball. Surprised and off-guard, Vixis went down hard as the chair slammed into her with brutal force. She groaned once and then was silent.
She was magnificent! Klaa himself would have some difficulty ripping that chair out of its moorings, but fueled by rage and desire, Vixis had pulled it free as easily as a child uprooting a flower. His aching need for her increased. No, not just yet. There was still one more act of their drama yet to unfold. Then would come the release—and the pleasure. Klaa forced himself to patiently wait for her to regain consciousness.
Vixis signaled her reawakening by uttering a muffled curse. She flung the wayward piece of furniture away. Then she shakily got up on her hands and knees and glared at Klaa, heedless of the blood dripping from a cut on her heavy brow ridge.
He stood with his arms folded, his erection pointing almost straight up against his belly as if to taunt her.
"Arouse yourself for my pleasure!" he snapped.
Without hesitation, Vixis rolled over on her back in a reclining position. She spread her legs wide and began to masturbate for him. She needed no stimulation; she was already so wet that she soon soaked the carpet. She ground herself against her hand, wriggling in the throes of her passion.
Klaa admired her superb body. She was indeed a splendid animal! She was more muscular than any female he had ever seen, yet she possessed an almost feline femininity, a graceful beauty that made watching her a pleasure. Her breasts were small and very firm. They did not sag or droop. Klaa began to stroke himself. Her femaleness beckoned him. He could not wait any longer. He stretched on the deck beside her, positioning himself so that each of them now stared at the other’s genitals.
Her women scent was strong, animal, almost overpowering, much to Klaa’s delight. How much more pleasing was the earthy odor of a Klingon female! He had raped more than his share of the fragile, little Human females taken during his various conquests. They had almost no smell at all, even when faced with the terror of violation and the death by slow torture that followed if they survived. Now the treasure of Vixis’ loins lay only inches from his face. He nibbled the insides of her thighs, teasing her, drinking in the aroma as she squirmed in delicious anticipation.
"Please," she gasped. "joHwl’, please!"
"chobelqu’," he snarled in reply. "Please me."
Her face flushed with excitement, Vixis opened her mouth wide and engulfed him. She gulped, her cheeks puffed out, then worked about another inch down the back of her mouth. She swallowed hard, taking in air through her nose, and soon she got him wedged into her tight throat. She worked at it hard and patiently but never managed to get him all in.
Klaa watched, a feral grin stretching across his features. He enjoyed the sight of his organ immersed in Vixis’ mouth, the look of her face, reddened, distended, pop-eyed with her effort. He chuckled, then closed in on her crotch and began licking up the moist line that marked her opening. Vixis writhed, moaning with the approach of her orgasm.
Klaa pushed his face between the mounds of her thighs and got his mouth full around the entrance. Then he sucked hard, digging his tongue in deeper, finally locating the wriggling little nub of flesh, stimulating it until she was bumping on the deck with the onset of a wild climax. Her head bobbed up and down frantically as she sucked him. She gagged as too much of him thrust down her throat. She recovered, and continued her frenzied oral ministrations, being careful not to swallow more than she could handle.
Suddenly, Klaa attacked her with just the tip of his tongue, flogging the super-sensitive bud with rapid strokes. Vixis threw her head back and screamed as a wrenching orgasm gripped her yet again.
Klaa finally exploded. He seemed to go on forever; it had been a long time since Klaa had taken a female! She was soon covered, forehead to breasts, with his fluid.
They lay there for a few minutes before Klaa wearily crawled over to his discarded uniform. He located his weapons belt and drew out his battle dagger, then scrambled back to Vixis.
"The oath," he gasped. "You will take it with me?"
Vixis’ heart hammered with excitement. "Oh, yes, beloved! I am ready."
He smiled. She held out her hand to him. He made a quick, deep slash in her palm. Then he passed the dagger to her, and she repeated the procedure on Klaa’s outstretched hand. They chanted under their breath in the Kh’myr dialect as blood dripped on the deck.
Then Klaa raised his eyes. "We two are now of one blood, one heart, one spirit. You are mine, I am yours, until the Dark Lords summon us to the Netherworld."
Vixis repeated the vow, then the two Klingons clasped their wounded hands together so that the blood flowed and mingled.
They threw back their head and howled, a fierce, blood-chilling ululation that echoed in the chamber long after their cries had ceased.
Klaa gently wrapped his powerful arms around Vixis and pulled her to him. His kiss was tender now, deep and probing, but lacking its earlier savagery.
Vixis rested, every muscle in her body totally relaxed and loose. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "My love, do you suppose they have been watching us?"
Klaa considered this. A scowl blackened his face. "If Kirk were aboard the Okrona, I would surely be watching him, even if we were being ‘friendly’ as we are now." He grinned suddenly. "Perhaps we should show our new ‘friends’ exactly what we think of them!"
He stood up and strode over to the pile of uniforms the two frightened young lovers had left behind. Then, taking a jacket in hand, he began to wipe his fluids off her face, neck, hair and breasts. She, in turn, took one of the tunics, and toweled her wetness off his face and beard.
Finally, they finished, and Klaa turned to his lover. "Let us go back to the Okrona. I have had all the ‘friendship’ I can stomach for one day! There are better things to do now...with each other."
Vixis nodded in enthusiastic agreement. The pair dressed quickly, eager to return to their own ship where they could attend to their injuries—among other things.
Klaa kissed her long and hard. "Perhaps someday we will tell our sons about this, eh?"
"Perhaps," Vixis replied, her eyes twinkling.
He flipped open his communicator. "Trelek—jol ylchu’!"
The transporter beam seized them, and they disappeared in a coruscating flare of energy.
Some time later, the cubicle hatch cycled open. James T. Kirk’s yeoman skulked in from the corridor, arms folded demurely across her pert breasts, glancing fearfully about to make sure no one was watching.
A voice whispered from outside, "Hurry up and get our uniforms, honey. Somebody’s bound to see us sooner or later, and I’m freezing my ass off."
"Okay, okay. Keep your shirt on," she shot back, then giggled at the irony of her remark. Picking her way through the wreckage, she found their clothes in the near darkness and reached down to sort through the garments.
"Oh, my God! They’re covered with—" She sniffed her jacket. "Lilac?"
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