ILLUMINARRPG: (06–0810) tlha'nISta'

[Frank Truelove]

Mission: For Honor
Day: 6
Stardate: 2446.04.29

(Qo'nos — Main Hall — aCSO LT tlha'nISta' — 0810)

Lanista entered the 'alcove' in which the assassin had embedded himself. On
the Observation Gallery level of the Main Hall, such positions of
concealment were few and far between. Under ordinary circumstances, these
alcoves were for the Highly Placed spectators and these private boxes would
be heavily guarded, both outside in the hallway and within the space
itself. That there were no guards in the corridor suggested the
machinations for the foul play were deeper than just placing a sniper on
scene. More to the point, that these rooms of seclusion were not occupied
by observing dignitaries suggested a very well-orchestrated malfeasance…

"You have two ways out of here," Lanista announced confidently as she
entered the alcove with caution. "You can jump down to the floor below and
hope you don't break your legs, or you can come along quietly and state
your case before the Houses Major."

A man practically erupted from his position of concealment, but not to
attack Lanista. His back was to her and his movements were frenetic. He did
not have his sniper rifle at-the-ready. In fact, he nearly dropped it more
than once in his urgent haste to recoil from … something. Lanista was
observed this phenomenon with some consternation but nevertheless prepared
to engage the man in combat. She very much intended to subdue and arrest
him but she was prepared for the fact that the "enemy gets a vote."

The man staggered away from whatever-he-perceived. He was quite obviously
responding to a stimulus that Lanista herself could not perceive. Lanista
approached him swiftly, fully intending to take advantage of his obvious
though inexplicable impairment — but Klingon tradition reared its backward
head: «quvHutlhHoHboghtlhIngan 'ach qabDaj 'angbe'bogh.» ("Only an enemy
without honor refuses to show himself in battle.")

~Damn you, Dad,~ she thought. Lani's father QolloH had always wanted his
only child to be as Klingon as possible despite the fact that for someone
who was only half-Klingon, "as possible" was precisely half! tlha'nISta''s
mother Ti'amah had be frustratingly logical in always pointing out: "Since
we live among them, we should observe their ways."

"Fine, I whirl him about and only THEN stab him in the neck," Lani'
grumbled. In the final analysis, she wouldn't do exactly that. She closed
swiftly and nearly silently, grappling with the man from behind and hooking
her warhammer around his throat. She spun him about so he could see her
face before she acted more decisively against him. She was shocked by his
expression, a rictus of genuine and all-encompassing fear.

"Oh, come now," she quipped, "I'm not all that bad." Her joke fell on deaf
ears and it was immediately obvious that the man couldn't even truly see
her. Something was affecting his mind that was very much different. But
being twirled around as he had been brought the warrior to his senses once
more and he began to raise his weapon.

Once he'd been turned about to face her, Lani's warhammer was no longer at
his neck but the two combatants stood close to each other. Lanista was more
than a foot taller than the man, but his weapon was longer than hers. This
weapon — a sniper's rifle — was equipped with a bayonet. The would-be
assassin demonstrated that he knew well how to use a rifle with the blade
accoutrement and the two began a dance of death!

"You insult me!" the man asserted.

"I'll do far more than that if you don't do the sensible thing! Surrender!"

"You think a mere replica of the Hammer of Kahless will be sufficient to
prevent your demise?!"

"It is, like me, sui generis. It is unique, and I assure you it is the
genuine article!"

The assassin hurled a vulgar epithet at Lanista as he lunged with the
bayonet. The blade was an unnecessarily savage looking thing, with a saw's
edge. It seemed, frankly, pathetic matched against the «qeylIS mupwI'» —
the Warhammer of Kahless!

In response to the man's attack, Lanista gave ground but not because she
had to. She wanted to. She was leading him out of the private box and into
the corridor of the Observation Gallery. This battle, she reasoned, must
have witnesses! And, since she wore not only a Starfleet uniform but a
Class-A Dress Starfleet uniform, Lani' believed she could not be seen as
the aggressor in this conflict.

Objectively, the man's longer weapon but Lani's greater reach prevented
either from having the clear advantage … but Lani' was, as she had
asserted, sui generis. She was half-Vulcan and she had spent more than a
century perfecting a martial art form that was as much a marriage of Suus
Mahna and moqbara as the union between QolloH and Ti'amah — Lanista's
parents!

Lanista was never able to use the Vulcan «talu-krik» or "neck pinch" nor
the «kash-nohv» or "mind-meld" without causing her subject and herself
considerable pain. She had resolved to never use these … except in combat.
She prepared for the killer to lunge once more and she planned to sidestep
the attack and apply the talu-krik as the man passed onward. His momentum
would carry him further along his chosen trajectory, permitting Lanista to
apply the quintessentially Vulcan subdual maneuver.

The man screamed as the neck pinch inflicted as much pain as an agonizer.
Lanista yelled out too, but she attempted to pass it off as a sort of
martial kiai rather than an impulsive (almost instinctual) outburst of
agony. Below, those who observed the fracas had burst out into an
enthusiastic ruckus even as warriors finally rushed to the location of the
duel from either side of the Observation Gallery.

As the man dropped unconscious to the floor, Lanista rested his rifle from
his grasp. She held the weapon aloft and cried out, "Qapla'!"

More than one of the men now on scene leveled disruptors at the fallen
would-be killer, ready to disintegrate him.

"NO! He must be questioned!" Lani' insisted.

(Reply any)
(Posted by Frank)
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