Demands of Honor Read Online Free PDF Page A

shell. His true worth came from his blood and his heart. Karel smiled and said to Karn, the smaller of the two mess officers, “Are you willing to settle this dispute now?”
    â€œYes.” Karn spat.
    Karel watched Rouk’s reaction to Karn’s enthusiasm and saw a moment of doubt in the larger Klingon’s eyes.
    â€œThen the rest of us will give you room,” Karel said toRouk. Then he gestured to the other mess officer and to Rouk’s men, who looked to Rouk for a signal. The larger Klingon nodded, unable to do anything else. Clearly, he had not intended single combat, even with a much smaller foe, but he could not admit his cowardly intentions in the open.
    Karel and the other mess officer took a position on the wall near Rouk’s men. Karel decided he did not want them far from his sight—or his reach. When they were in place, Karel said, “
Bekk
Karn, do not kill him unless he forces you to.” The mess officer looked disappointed, and Karel noted with satisfaction that Rouk was watching the exchange with more doubt now. He obviously understood that Karel and Karn knew something that he did not. Whatever he’d expected when he’d come into the mess looking for trouble, this was not it.
    Karn did not give him long to consider the change in his fortune. With only a grunt of warning, the smaller Klingon launched a combination of strikes at Rouk that drove the Klingon backward into one of the tables. Rouk was able to deflect most of the blows, but Karel could see that at least one had connected solidly with the side of Rouk’s face.
    Finally, Rouk turned to one side and twisted away from the table behind him. He staggered back and steadied himself. Then, when Karn launched another attack, Rouk was better prepared, striking out with his own hands.
    Karel immediately recognized Rouk’s style of fighting as one of the most basic taught to military trainees. Against most enemies, it was quite effective, relying onpower and intimidation. But Karn had become proficient in the Klingon fighting art of
Mok’bara.
In fact, he had been one of Karel’s best students.
    Rouk landed one solid blow on the side of Karn’s head, but it only seemed to make the smaller Klingon angrier. Karn launched another attack that sent Rouk reeling backward over a table. Rouk’s companions now looked not just confused, but shocked. They started to move toward their leader, but Karel grabbed one roughly and pulled him backward. Karel could see they wanted to enter the fight and had no doubt that they would do just that if he were not there. Of course, an honorable Klingon would never have allowed companions to help him in single combat.
    But Rouk, like his leader, was not an honorable Klingon.
    The large Klingon came up from behind the table with a small knife in his hand. It was not a proper blade, more of an assassin’s weapon—a dishonorable tool for a coward’s job. Rouk looked comfortable with it in his hand.
    Though he was somewhat unsteady on his feet, the blade clearly gave him confidence. He lunged forward, leading with his blade. It was a clumsy attack and Karn was too skilled for it. He struck down on the blade hand even as he sidestepped the blow. Leaving one leg in Rouk’s path, he shoved his adversary downward.
    Rouk went down quickly, losing his hold on the knife. Even as he slid forward and crashed headfirst into the legs of another table, Karn dove forward, rolled, and came upholding Rouk’s knife. Karel had to fight the urge to remindKarn not to kill Rouk, but he held his tongue. If he had to repeat a clear order to one of his warriors, that warrior had no place on the ship.
    Karn kneeled over Rouk and reached down with one hand to turn the Klingon over so that he was faceup. Rouk was stunned, but not so much so that he did not see the knife and recognize the feeling when it was pressed to his throat.
    Karel stepped forward and said, “Rouk, is