Star Trek: The Hand of Kahless Read Online Free PDF

third stroke Vrenn heard the pop of a spark, and then he understood: the Lance butt was not Null. There was something hidden in it; a contact stunner, or an agonizer.
    It must, he thought, it must be a rule he did not know—some handicap against a Grand Master, perhaps—Vrenn checked his controls, touched a finger to the Null of his own Lance; only the grip of training kept him from banging the blunt end against the floor or into one of the wall barriers. Vrenn looked up, toward the window where he had seen the players, but it was blocked now from his view.
    An edge of Gelly’s space went from yellow to blue. Vrenn turned, saw the path of blue lines leading to the Gold Lancer. Ragga was gone. Vrenn opened his mouth, to warn her. His jaw was tense enough to hurt, and before he could strain out any words Gelly Swift was across the spaces at warp speed.
    The Gold brought up his weapon. Gelly danced around it, kicked the Lancer. He stumbled, started to turn. She kicked him again, punched him in the lower back. He seemed about to fall; she tumbled, did a handstand and struck his helmet with her bootheel.
    The Lancer fell.
    Gelly cartwheeled upright.
    The Lancer stood and sent a bolt into her body.
    Gelly doubled over. The Lancer hit her with the blunt non-Null steel, hit her twice. There was blood. Gelly’s blood was a very dark color.
    A snarl came up in Vrenn’s throat; he swallowed it back.
    Vrenn was Elevated again. When he reached the seventh level, the Goal disk was just being transported into his space; he caught it as it fell. The metal Goal was indeed quite heavy.
    The space was opaque on two sides, above, and below; the clear side showed nothing. Where, Vrenn wanted to know, was Zharn? Moving the Fencer away from the Goal was the most dangerous gambit in klin zha.
    He wanted to know as well if the Gold players were cheating, and if so how they expected to succeed; and if Ragga and Gelly had been transported alive; and he wanted a Gold player, to kill for his own.
     
    “About those odds…” Manager Atro said.
    Akten, without looking away from the windows, said, “Wagers cancelled, of course. No fault.”
    Atro waved a hand.
    Kezhke had retrieved the fruit from his consort and was chewing furiously. “I don’t know about that Lancer,” he said, juice running down his chin.
    “The Thought Admiral might then be distracted?” General Margon said calmly, reaching for a glass of brandy.
    “Not the Green Lancer, the Gold,” Kezhke said at once, then turned to face Margon. “I am not a Thought Admiral, and I do not pretend to understand Fleet strategy; but even you, General, know epetai-Khemara’s record.”
    “Oh, yes,” Margon said lightly, and made a gesture with fingertips to forehead, indicating mild insanity. The Marine officers laughed. So did some of the Navals. “Does anyone know what sort of fusion that Green Swift was? She was rather interesting, in a skinny sort of way.” Margon’s consort threw a grape at him.
    “The Green Goal’s unprotected,” General Maida said. “He’s sent his Fencer off…”
    “Operator,” Kezhke said slowly, “replay of the last kill by Gold Fencer.”
    Sudok touched a key, and a small holo was thrown on the glass.
    “Lancer Elevated to Seven, covering Goal,” one of the Managers said. “Gold Lancer to Seven.”
    Kezhke said, “Operator, stop replay, and enlarge…. General Margon, will you look at this?”
    “When I mentioned the Swift, I only had the epetai-Khemara in mind…he likes skinny. And green.”
    “Green Lancer, carrying Goal, up to Eight.”
     
    As Vrenn set the Goal disc down, the enemy Lancer rose into view. Now, Vrenn thought, and waited for the yellow space barrier to change. Instead, the floor began rising again. Vrenn put a foot up on the Goal, fingers tight on his Lance; the ache in his jaw was radiating to the side of his head.
    From the Eighth level, only two spaces on an edge, he could see downward, see Zharn on the Seventh; now he