Star Trek: The Hand of Kahless Read Online Free PDF Page A

continued his roll. Before the enemy could vault over and land behind him, Vrenn fell forward, twisting to fall on his backside. The Flier whirled, just short of striking the far wall; swooped down again.
    Vrenn touched his weapon controls. The crystal tip pulsed green.
    The Flier was struck in the left ribs, knocked off course. Vrenn spun the Lance end-for-end, smashing the Null end at the Flier’s control gauntlet. He connected. Small bones crunched, and wires. As if swept by an invisible hand, the Gold’s harness flung him into the wall of the cell, and pressed him there, outlined in blue fire. The harness spent its charge. The Gold Flier hit the floor, moved just a little, then sparkled and vanished without a sound.
    A floor strip turned blue. Vrenn walked through the holo into the space beyond.
     
    Some of the Naval officers, and even one of the Marines, were slapping their thighs in approval. “Good play! Good play!”
    Admiral Kezhke said, “Who’s the Green Lancer?”
    Operator Sudok pressed keys, and the close-up image was printed over with red letters.
    “Vrenn,” Kezhke read, “ Gensa, good House… Rustazh? ” Kezhke knocked aside the fruit one of his consorts was feeding him. There was a silence in the gallery.
    General Maida had a just-lit incense stick in his fingers; he stopped halfway to the holder on his shoulder. “I thought the Rustazh line was extinct.”
    “So did I,” Kezhke said. “I wonder if Kethas knows.”
    “Can such things be?” Margon said amiably, and gestured to remind Maida of his smoldering incense.
    Kezhke said, “Sudok—”
    “The Admiral Grand Master inspected his players’complete records some days ago.”
    Margon said, “You can hardly assume a Grand Master’s play would be affected by his interest in one of the pieces.”
    “No,” Kezhke said levelly, “not Kethas. But it’s been…seven years since all the Rustazh died—”
    “All but one, it would seem.”
    “It would seem.” Kezhke stroked his stomach, turned to the cubicle at the end of the room.
    Within it, Thought Admiral Kethas again moved his Lancer.
     
    Vrenn had reached the sixth level of the grid, four cells to an edge. There were only a few Clouds here; about half the level was visible, and several spaces on the level above. Vrenn wondered briefly if the other Gold Flier was still in play, and almost without thinking checked his Lance. The indicator read four-tenths charge. The Fliers could not carry Goals, but surely that did not matter yet; surely they were not so close to endgame.
    Behind Vrenn, a player was rising from below. He turned; it was Gelly, bouncing from toe to toe as if she were weightless. There was a film of blood on her metal gloves. She was smiling, like a shining light in her face. Vrenn nodded to her, and she spun round on the ball of one foot.
    The other enemy Flier shot upward, through a space two away from Vrenn’s, and was lost in the Clouds above.
    Huge green-armored shoulders appeared near the far point of Vrenn’s level: Ragga was coming up. There were creases now in his heavy leather, and a few rips. Vrenn wondered if he was happier now. He stood as if nothing had ever, could ever, touch him.
    The Golden Lancer stepped out of Cloud, faced Ragga directly. Vrenn leaned forward slightly, eager to see.
    The enemy’s Lance flashed green. Ragga made no attempt to dodge the bolt; he did not even grunt as it struck him. Then he swung.
    The Lancer was at least smart enough not to bother with his shields. He reversed his weapon to the Null end. Vrenn smacked a hand on his thigh; it was a bold move. Not that it would save him, not against Ragga.
    The Green Blocker’s fist smashed at the Lance butt, knocking it down, almost out of the Gold’s hands. The enemy staggered.
    So did Ragga.
    Vrenn stared as the best Blocker of all the Houses sank to his knees. The Lancer stepped back to recover. Ragga barely moved. The Null end struck him, and struck again, and again.
    On the